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ELEMENTS 



OF 



PSYCHOLOGY. 



BY ! _L^ 

HENRY Nv p AY, 

Author of "Logic," "Moral Science," "Esthetics," "Art 
OF Discourse, ' etc. 



^%^- 






NEW YORK : 


G. 


P. PUTNAM'S SONS 




182 Fifth Avenue. 




1876 




^ 






Copyright, 

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. 

1876. 



John F. Trow & Son, 

Printers and Stereotypers, 

205-213 Kast \2.th St., 

NEW YORK. 



PREFACE. 



THE governing aim in the preparation of this 
work has been to furnish a suitable text-book 
for beginners in metaphysical studies. It has been 
written predominantly for use in the class-room ; 
and is designed to serve as introductory both to the 
higher and more critical discussions of the phenom- 
ena of mind usually given in the lectures at colleges 
and universities and also to the study of the derived 
sciences of logic, ethics, and aesthetics. With these 
three sciences, which form what has been denomi- 
nated by Sir William Hamilton Nomological Psy- 
chology, its subject matter makes up the entire cir- 
cle of the mental sciences. 

In preparing the work, the general field of psy- 
chological literature, as it has been cultivated up to 
the present time in this country, in Great Britain, 
and in continental Europe, has been studiously ex- 
plored, so that all the established results of the most 
recent investigations might be incorporated into it. 
This accumulated mass of knowledge, the endeavor 
has been to reduce into a strictly systematic and 
scientific form, a form that is indeed the simplest for 
apprehension by others when attained, but the latest 
and most difficult of attainment in the progress of 
science. Something more than accurate presenta- 



IV PREFACE. 

tions of the observed facts of mental action, some- 
thing more than generalizations of these facts under 
their appropriate heads, has been aimed at. The 
endeavor has been to reduce these generalized facts 
to the exactness of scientific system, in which all 
the parts are exhibited in their organic interdepen- 
dence and relation both to the common whole and 
to one another. The phenomena of mind are thus 
presented as the manifestations, the affections and 
the operations, of a single active nature in the diver- 
sity of its functions and of its relations to the beings 
and objects to which it is related. The general at- 
tributes of the human mind having been enumerated 
and explained, the particular phenomena of mental 
activity, the facts of sensibility, intelligence, and 
will, are exhibited as the states of a single active 
nature v/hich, while revealing more prominently and 
characteristically sometimes this and sometimes that 
side of its composite life, never wholly drops out of 
its phenomenal action any constituent element of 
its being. 

The particular phenomena of mind as classified 
subjectively by psychologists generally at the present 
time under the departments of intelligence, sensi- 
bility, and will, are in this work treated in the light 
of their respective relation and correspondence to 
the old and still unquestioned classes of phenomena 
handed down to us from antiquity under the object- 
ive enumeration of the True, the Beautiful, and the 
Good. Psychological science, in the light of this 
correspondence, it is believed, is enabled to exhibit 
its phenomena in a new clearness and impressiveness. 



PREFACE. V 

The order of treatment, hitherto adopted, has 
been in this work varied by giving priority to 
the department of the sensibihty before that of the 
intelhgence. This is unquestionably the order of 
natural manifestation, as we must have sense of an 
object — must be impressed by it — before we can 
think of it. This natural order, as might be antici- 
pated, prevents much obscurity and confusion and 
consequent error in the explanation of certain men- 
tal states, particularly those of the imagination and 
memory. These two states have been generally, and 
of course very erroneously, presented under the in- 
telligence or cognitive function. 

Further, the department of the sensibility has 
been treated with more fullness and more scientific 
method than has been usual heretofore. This de- 
partment has been far less cultivated than the 
departments of the intelligence and the will. Yet 
even these functions are so closely and vitally related 
to that of the sensibility that they cannot be fully 
and accurately shown except in their relation of 
interdependence to the sensibility. 

This elementary work in mental science is con- 
tributed to our text-book literature, in the earnest 
hope that it may be found to be serviceable in some 
degree to the elevation of the study of mind to its 
true and proper rank in the circle of educational 
studies. 

New Haven, February, 1876. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION. — § i. Definition of Psychology. 
■ — § 2. Source of Knowledge.— -§ 3. Province of Psy- 
chology. 



BOOK I. 

GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

CHAPTER 1,— The Essential Activity of Mind.— § 4. 

The Mind essentially Active. § 5. Definition of Mind. § 6. Three 
forms of Mental Activity. 

CHAPTER II. — The Singleness and Simplicity of Mind. 
— § 7. The Mind Single and Simple. § 8. Each Mind a Distinct 
Unit. § 9. Mind not the same as its Object. § 10. Mind Homo- 
geneous. 

CHAPTER III. — TheFiniteness AND Dependence of the 
Human Mind.— § 11. The Human Mind Limited and Dependent; 
—in its Range. § 12, In its Intensity. § 13, In its Dependence on 
Objects. §§ 14-16. The Dependence of Mind on its Objects, Three- 
fold. 

CHAPTER IV.— The Passivity of the Human Mind.— 
§ 17. The Hunan Mind Passive. § 18. The Mind Passive in 
Respect to Objects Without. § 19. In Respect to its Own States. 
§ 20. Impressions on the Mind Vary. § 21. Mind Active and Pas- 
sive in Every Experience. § 22. Pleasures from its Activity and 
Susceptibility. 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER v.— The Continuousness of Mind.— § 23. The 
Mind Continuous in its Activity and its Passivity. § 24. Habit. 
§ 25. Mental Growth. 

CHAPTER VI.— The Self-Consciousness of Mind.— § 26. 
The Mind Conscious of its own Acts and Behefs. § 27. Self-Con- 
sciousness Respects not the Mind Itself but its Modifications. § 28. 
In Self-Consciousness, the Mind both Knows and Feels. § 29. 
Self-Consciousness Varies in Degree, 

CHAPTER VII. — The Relativeness of Mind to its Ob- 
jects. — Ideas. — § 30. The Mind Knows Only in Relation to its 
Objects. §31. Ideas, What. §32. Nothing but Idea Object to the 
Mind. § 33. Nothing but Mind Subject for Idea. § 34. Twofold 
Relation between Mind and Idea. § 35. Idea More Exactly Defined 
§ 36. Any Expressed _Idea Apprehensible either as True, or as 
Beautiful, or as Good. § 37. The True. § 38. The Beautiful, 
§ 39. The Good. § 40. The True, the Beautiful, the Good, Re- 
spectively Objects for the Intelligence, the Sensibility, and the Will- 

CHAPTER VIII.— § 41. Symbols of Mind. 



BOOK II. 
THE SENSIBILITY. 

CHAPTER I. — Its Nature and its Modifications- — §§ 42- 
44. The Sensibility Defined and Explained. §§ 45,46. Form. § 47. 
The Imagination. § 48. The Two Departments of the Phenomena 
of the Sensibility. §§ 49-54. The Feelings Distinguished into 
Classes. 

CHAPTER II.— Pleasure and Pain.— § 55. Pleasure and 
Pain Defined. § 56. Distinguishable in Thought from both act 
and feeling. § 57. Degrees. § 58. Attendant on Every Mental Ex- 
perience. §§ 59-63. Modifications. 

CHAPTER III.— The Sensations.— § 63. Sensation De- 
fined. § 64. Referable Solely to Mind. § 65. Medium of Sensation. 
§ 66. The Nerves, — Two Classes. § ^i- Sensation the Same, 
whatever Part of the Nerve is Affected. § 68. Sensations Classified 
§ 69. Simple Bodily Pleasure and Pain. § 70. General Vital Sense, 
§ 71. General Organic Sense. § 72. Special Sense. § 73. Touch. 
§ 74. Taste. § 75. Smell. § 76. Hearing. § "j^. Sight. 



CONTENTS. IX 

CHAPTER IV.— The Emotions.— § 78. Emotion Defined. 
§§ 79j8o- Three General Classes of Emotions. § 81. Intellectual 
Sense. §82. Aesthetic Sense, — Beautiful, Sublime, Comic. §83. 
Moral Sense. 

CHAPTER v.— The Affections.— § 84. Affections Defined. 
§ 85, Love and Hate. § 86. Habitual Dispositions. § 87. Affec- 
tions in Relation to Their Objects. § 88. Resentments. 

CHAPTER VI.— The Desires.— §§89,90. Desires Defined 
and Characterized. § 91. Aversions. § 92. Desires Classified in 
Reference to Capability of the Soul. § 93. Appetites. § 94. Ra- 
tional Desires. § 95. Social Desires. § 96. Hopes and Fears. 

CHAPTER VII.— The Sentiments.— § 97. Sentiments De- 
fined. § 98. Sentiments Classified. § 99. Contemplative Senti- 
ments. § 100,101. Practical or Moral Sentiments. 

CHAPTER VIIL— The Passions.— § 102. The Passions De- 
fined and Classified. 

CHAPTER IX.— The Imagination.— § 103. The Imagination 
Defined. § 104. Diverse Denominations of the Faculty. § 105. 
The Nature Illustrated. §§ 106-108. Ideals Defined and Classified 

CHAPTER X. — The Imagination. — Sense-Ideals. — § 109. 
Sense-Ideals Defined. §§ 110,111. Sense-Ideals, as Related to the 
Sensuous Organism and to the Mind. § 112. Phantoms. § 113. 
Exalted Sensibility. § 114. Suspended Sensibility. § 115. Dream- 
ing. § 116. Catalepsy. § 117. Somnambulism. 

CHAPTER XL— The Imagination— Spiritual Ideals;— 
§ 118. Spiritual Ideals Defined. § 119. Spiritual Ideals Analyzed 
and Exemplified. 

CHAPTER XIL— Memory.— § 120. Memory Defined. § 121. 
Its Law. § 122-126. Conditions and Special Rules of a good 
Memory. 

CHAPTER XIIL— Mental Reproduction.— § 127. Mental 
Reproduction Defined. § 128. Mental Reproduction, Spontaneous 
or Voluntary. — Revery. §§ 129-135. Laws of Mental Association. 
§ 136. Voluntary Reproduction. §§137-140, Rules of Recollection. 

CHAPTER XIV.— The Threefold Function of the 
Imagination. — § 141. The Three Functions of the Imagination 



X CONTENTS. 

Enumerated. §142. The Artistic Imagination — vEsthetics. §143 
The Philosophical Imagination. — Logic. § 144. The Practical 
Imagination. — Ethics. 



BOOK III. 

THE INTELLIGENCE. 

CHAPTER I. — Nature and Modifications. — § 147 Intel- 
ligence Defined. §§ 148-151. Its Modifications. 

CHAPTER IL— Perception.— § 152. Perception Defined 
§ 153. Relations to Sensation. § 154. Sphere of Perception. 
§§ 155-157. Kind of Knowledge given by Perception. 

CHAPTER III.— Intuition.— §§158-159. Intuition Defined. 
§ 160. Sphere of Intuition. §§ 161,162. Kind of Knowledge given 
by Intuition. 

CHAPTER IV.— Thought.— §§ 163,164. Thought Defined. 
§ 165. The Three Essential Elements. § 166. Thought or Act of 
the Discursive Intelligence. § 167. Its Three Forms. § 168. The 
Judgment. § 169. The Concept. § 170. The Reasoning. § 171.. 
Classes of Attributes. §172. Intrinsic Attributes — Qualities and 
Actions. § 173. Essential and Accidental Properties. § 174. At- 
tributes of Relation and of Condition. 

CHAPTER v.— The Categories of Thought.— §§ 175, 
176. Category Defined. § 177. The Category of Identity and Dif- 
ference. § 178. The Category of Quantity. § 179. The Category 
of Modality. § 180. The Category of Properties and Relations. 
§ 181. Categories of the Beautiful, the True, and the Good. 

CHAPTER VI.— Existence.— § 182. The Reality of Objects. 
§ 183. Mind. § 184. Matter. § 185. Universe. § 186. Substan- 
ces and Causes. § 187. Space and Time. 

CHAPTER VII. — Intellectual Apprehension and Rep- 
resentation. — § 188. Intelligence as Capacity and as Faculty. 
§ 189. Intellectual Apprehension. § 190. Intellectual Representa- 
tion. 

CHAPTER VIII. — Curiosity and Attention. — § 191. In- 
telligence Instinctive or Voluntary. § 192. Curiosity. § 193. At- 
tention. 



CONTENTS. XI 

BOOK IV. 

THE WILL. 

CHAPTER I. — Nature and Modifications of the Will. 
— § 194. Will Defined. 

CHAPTER IL— Choice.— §§ 195-199. Choice Exemplified 
and Explained. §§ 200-203. Free Personality Analyzed. 

CHAPTER in.— Motive.— § 204. Motive Defined. §§ 205. 
206. Motive ever a Good to the Whole Soul and in the Mind. 
§§ 208,209. Motives Classified as External and Internal. 

CHAPTER IV. — Growth and Subordinations of Will. 
— §§ 210,211. The Will a Power Capable of Growth. § 212. De- 
pendence of Will. § 213. Governing and Subordinate Volitions. 

CHAPTER v.— Conscience. — §§ 214, 215. Conscience — Its 
Motive and Elements. § 216. Discernment of Right and Wrong. 
§ 217. Sentiment of Obligation. § 218. Sense of Approval. § 219. 
Conscience Influenced by Will. 

CHAPTER VI.— Hope, Faith, and Love.— § 220. Hope, 
Faith, Love, as Virtues. §221. Hope Defined. §222. Faith De^ 
fined. § 223. Love Defined. 



INTRODUCTION. 



§ 1. Psychology is the science of the 
Psychology human mind. 

defined. ^^^ > , 

i he term psychology is from the Greek 
language, and properly signifies a discourse upon 
the soul or mind. 

As a science, psychology professes to set forth 
the facts pertaining to the human mind or soul in 
logical order and completeness. 

The terms mind, sotd, and spirit are all used to 
denote that in man which thinks, feels, and wills. 
They are used, however, often with different shades 
of meaning. The word mind points rather to the 
thinking faculty, the intelligence ; soul indicates 
more immediately the feeling capacity, the sense ; 
while spirit rather regards the rational nature that 
wills and directs its own acts. Other synonymous 
terms are conscious subject, the self, ego, the human 
conscioiLSiiess. 

§ 2. The one source from which we 
Sources of obtain our knowleds-e of the facts of 

knowledge. _ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

mind is experience. This experience 
is either our own or that of others as shown in 
their expressed acts. 

As we shall see, the more essential facts of mind 



2 INTRODUCTION. 

are its operations, because it is essentially of an ac- 
tive nature. We are able to take notice of the opera- 
tions of our own minds. Men of reflection in all 
ages have sought to know themselves, their feelings, 
their thoughts, their endeavors ; tke various kinds 
of their mental operations ; and the relations of those 
acts or states to one another and to their respective 
objects. These observations and studies have been 
recorded ; have been compared ; and thus the world 
has ever been increasing its knowledge of the mind. 
Moreover, men have framed language, have intro- 
duced words and shaped sentences, so as to set forth 
more exactly their thoughts. Thus it has come to 
pass that the language of men is a rich treasure- 
house of .information in regard to the facts of mind. 
The literature of the world which contains the record 
of what man has done, what he has experienced, 
w^hat he has observed in himself and the world 
around him, what he has thought and suffered and 
achieved, is the grand repository of knowledge in 
regard to the nature and the attributes of the human 
mind. 

In fact, it is in language, in the varying significa- 
tions of words, which must vary to mark the progress 
of knowledge, that we find not only the best light 
in the study of mind, but also the occasion of the 
most serious mistake and error and dispute, just as 
a changing, intermitting light may mislead, even 
although it be the only guide we can obtain. 

§ 3. From these facts — these pJienom- 
Provinceof ^;^^ — Qf mind, gathered from the univer- 

psychology. ° 

sal experience of men through personal 



INTRODUCTION. 3 

observation and study of the experience of others 
recorded in language and Hterature, we are enabled 
to discern the general characters or attributes of 
mind and thus far to know its nature. It is accord- 
ingly the particular province of psychology to set 
forth in order and completeness the general charac- 
teristics or attributes of mind. 

All true knowledge is in fact but knowledge of 
attributes. All our knowledge of the sun consists 
in our knowing certain attributes belonging to it, as 
that it is round, is bright, is in the heavens, is centre 
of the planetary system, and the like. Of the sun 
as a substance, apart from its attributes, we know 
nothing ; at least we know nothing more than this, 
that it is not the moon, is not the earth, is not any 
thing else that we can name. All positive know- 
ledge terminates in attributes. When we know all 
the attributes of an object, we know everything 
that can be known in relation to it ; while we gain 
no knowledge of it whatever, until we recognize 
some attribute belonging to it. All science, accord- 
ingly, searches for attributes ; deals with attributes ; 
and deals with nothing else. Psychology, as a sci- 
ence, consequently, seeks only to recognize the at- 
tributes of mind, enumerate them all in their proper 
order, and exhibit them in their respective relations 
to one another, and to their several objects. 

We have thus the proper method of studying the 
mind prescribed to us. We are to gather up the 
facts of mind, for the purpose of finding all the 
general attributes of mind. We are then to exhibit 
these attributes one by one in such way as to show 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

that our survey of these attributes is complete, and 
that no one is omitted, since this assurance of com- 
pleteness it is the very object of a science to give. 
We are to exhibit them, moreover, in their true re- 
lations to one another ; and, also, inasmuch as the 
mind will be found to be but part of the vast whole 
of 'creation, in their true relations to other things so 
far as they may become objects to it. 

Our method, accordingly, will lead us, in 
Method. the first part of our study, to exhibit the 

general attributes of mind, and in the 
three subsequent parts respectively, to exhibit in or- 
der the special attributes of the mind as essentially 
of an active nature, as affecting other minds and 
objects, and as equally affected by them. 



THE ESSENTIAL ACTIVITY OF MIND. 



BOOK I. 

GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE ESSENTIAL ACTIVITY Of' MIND. 

§ 4. The mind is essentially active. 
Mind essentially As we survey the facts of mind — its 

active. •' 

phenomena — we discover everywhere an 
active nature. There is not a fact which does not 
reveal this activity. Our thoughts are active ; our 
purposes are active ; our feelings even are the modi- 
fications of an active nature. The feelings of the 
human soul are not like impressions on an inactive 
substance as on a stone. So essential is activity 
in them that they are in a certain truth sometimes 
reckoned as the active powers of the mind. 

It is by this property of activity that mind is 
distinguished from matter, which is the only other 
kind of being of which we have any knowledge, 
Matter is inactive, inert ; it moves only as it is moved, 
and just as it is moved ; it is moved only by mind 
as the only moving force of which we know anything. 
Matter is not only motionless but also formless, ex- 
cept as it is moved and shaped by mind. 

The best definitions that can be given of mind 



6 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

are accordingly those which define it through this 

attribute. 

§ 5. If we define mind by distinguishing 

Mind defined, it from all Other being, we have the defi- 
nition : MIND IS THAT KIND OF BEING 

WHICH ACTS ; while matter, the only other kind of 
being, is that which is inert or incapable in itself of 
action. Or, if we define it by its characteristic 
properties, we have the definition : mind is that 

WHICH THINKS, AND FEELS, AND WILLS. 

This then is the fundamental and essential at- 
tribute of mind — activity. As we shall see, all other 
attributes are really but modifications or character- 
istics of mind as active. So that wherever there 
is mind there is activity, as the essential element. 

Not only is activity the essential attri- 
Activity peculiar butc of mind, but it is peculiar to mind. 

to mind. ^-^, . . . , , . 

inere is no activity that we know 01 
which is not the activity of mind, or the proper and 
sole result of its activity. On the other hand, wher- 
ever there is activity, there we discover mind im- 
mediately or remotely revealed. All causes are but 
modes of mental activity. And as we, instinctively 
as it were, demand for all things a cause, and if we 
recognize second causes, still demand a first great 
cause, and can conceive of such cause only as a 
determination of some mind ; so we are forced to 
regard mind as the only activity of which we can 
conceive. At least, psychology, w"hich is a science of 
observation, recognizing the fact that mind does 
originate action, — that its purposes act upon thoughts 
and feelings, on other minds, on matter even, mov- 



THE ESSENTIAL ACTIVITY OF MIND. 7 

ing the limbs and other organs of the body and 
through them even material objects without, — recog- 
nizing this fact and observing no motion or effect 
which it cannot account for on the ground that it is 
the immediate or remote effect of the action of mind, 
does not regard itself as called upon to suppose any 
other activity. Until proof is brought to it, this sci- 
ence cannot in its teachings recognize that there is 
any activity other than that of mind. 

§ 6. There are to be recognized three very 
Thrse forms of different f orms or kinds of mental activ- 

m£ntal activity. 

ity; in other words, we observe three dif- 
ferent functions of the human mind. If an orange 
be put into the hand, the mind at once feels certain im- 
pressions made upon it ; there is afeelingof softness, 
of roundness, of agreeable perfume. The mind feels 
from some object out of itself. On^ function of the 
mind then is feeling. This, its function of feeling, 
is called the sensibility. The mind also through 
these senses of touch and smell and still more through 
that of sight, perceives this exterior object ; itknows 
it to be there in the hand, it knows it to have these 
attributes of form and smell and color ; the mind thus 
perceives and knows ; and this, its function of know- 
ing, is called the intelligence. Moreover the mind de- 
termines to hold fast the orange, to move it before 
its eye, to smell or taste it ; this is another form of 
its activity ; and this, its function of determining, 
is called the zvill. 

We can discover no other form of mental activity ; 
we can conceive of no other. These three forms are 
equally necessary each to the others. We cannot 



8 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

know or choose the orange, until the orange has 
been introduced to our intelligence and our will 
through some impression upon us, through some 
feeling : and all feeling in man is more than mere 
impression on a blindly passive, immovable rock ; it 
is impression on that which knows it feels and 
which determines and acts ; as for instance, by throw- 
ing off the impression, or by allowing it and then per- 
mitting its thought to rest upon it and then perhaps 
determining upon some act in relation to it. 

These three great functions of the mind pre- 
senting three different departments of mental activity 
or three distinct classes of mental phenomena, mark 
out the three grand divisions of psychology which 
treat respectively of the three specific forms of 
mental activity or the three special functions of the 
human mind. 



THE SINGLENESS AND SIMPLICITY OF MIND. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE SINGLENESS AND SIMPLICITY OF MIND. 

§ 7. The human mind is single and sim- 

Mind single and r)\Q. 
simple. .* . 

It is single in the sense that it is one 
by itself, separate from all other beings. It is sim- 
ple in the sense that it is homogeneous in its whole 
nature and cannot be decomposed into separate ele- 
ments. 

§ 8. Each mind is a unit, by itself, exist- 
Unityof mind, ing separately from all other minds and 

from all other beings. This implies that 
there is a plurality of minds and that each individ- 
ual mind is one of a number. Psychology, as a 
science, assumes this as a fundamental fact. 

It belongs to another science to discuss the gen- 
eral question in all its bearings, whether there is 
more than a single mind in the universe of being. 
That there is but one mind, and that consequently 
each human mind is an inseparable part of this one 
universal mind, is one form of pantheism — that of 
idealism — which denies the existence of matter as 
distinct from mind ; the other form of pantheism 
being that of materialism, which denies the existence 
of mind as distinct from matter. 



lO GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

Psychology, which does not properly 
Proved from inquire into the true significance and 

experience. . . . . 

proof of these pantheistic doctrines, sat- 
isfies itself with the test of observation and expe- 
rience. Every one knows from himself, that he is 
not a mere mode of existence of some one universal 
being. He knows of himself that the life of his 
mind is as distinct from that of other minds as 
the life of his body is distinct from that of other 
bodies ; that he thinks, and feels, and wills, not as a 
part of a universal thinking and feeling and willing, 
just as much as he breathes and has a sense of pain 
or pleasure and moves his limbs by himself and not 
as a part of a universal animal life. He feels a re- 
sponsibility for many of his actions, because he 
knows they are his own and not those of a being 
called in the language of theory and speculation 
the absolute and the infinite. All the records of 
human experience unite their testimony in confirma- 
tion of what each individual knows in his own con- 
sciousness. Only in figurative language, used to help 
out the notion of the close relation between the hu- 
man mind and the divine mind, can it be said, that 
there is one sole mind in the universe, one function 
of thinking, one of feeling, one of willing. There is 
a multitude of minds ; each human mind is one of 
this multitude, existing by itself. 

§ 9. The human mind is not the same 
S'^its^'ob^e'ct ^^ ^^^^ object- with which it has to 
do. This is another form of specula- 
tion which has arisen in the endeavor to account 
for the ccmmunication between the mind and 



THE SINGLENESS AND SIMPLICITY OF MIND. II 

the object of which it thinks, which it feels, which it 
chooses. That thought and its object are one, is the 
unwarranted assumption of some theorists. It is 
enough here to reply, that this supposition is contra- 
dicted by the testimony of each man's consciousness 
as well as by the records of the experiences of men gen- 
erally. When I think of the sun, I know that the sun 
is different, is not one with*myself, in any but a figura- 
tive sense. I may, in a warrantable use of language, 
say, when I think of the sun, that the sun is in my 
thought, is in my mind ; but this language is strained 
beyond its true meaning when it is construed to imply 
that the sun is not external to me, and truly without 
my mind and as an existence separate from it. 

§ lo. The human mind is homoge- 
Simpiicity of ncous and cannot be decomposed into 

mental action. ^ 

simpler elements. 
It has in a certain sense, divers functions ; 
but it is the same mind that acts in each. If 
we distinguish the several functions of thinking, of 
feeling, and of willing, it is still the same one mind 
that is engaged in each. It is the same one river 
that yields to the ship that is launched into it and 
that bears it down its current ; that hardens its sur- 
face under the frost and scatters spray when it dash- 
es upon a rock. It is the same wind that chills us 
and drives us. We cannot separate a river into some- 
thing that shall simply yield to a ship and some- 
thing else that shall float it down its current ; 
or a wind into something that shall chill us and 
something else which shall beat upon us and drive 
us, which two things may be combined and make a 



12 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

wind. So we cannot separate the mind into three 
several things, one of which can think, another feel, 
and the third will. On the contrary, it is incon- 
ceivable how the mind can think without feeling or 
without willing. 



DEPENDENCE OF THE HUMAN MIND. 1 3 



CHAPTER III. 



THE FINITENESS AND DEPENDENCE OF THE HU- 
MAN MIND. 



§ 11. The human mind is Hmited and 
Human mind lim- dependent. 

ited m range. ^ 

It is limited in its range. It can reach 
but apart of the universe of objects. 

The range of its activity may enlarge with the 
expansion and growth of which its nature is capable 
through interminable ages, and yet a boundless uni- 
verse will ever infinitely outstretch its largest capa- 
city. More than this, the range of its activity varies 
during this progress and growth. There are times 
in which the mind is conscious that it has not the 
power which it has at other times. It feels itself at 
such times shut up within narrow limits, as if by a 
power without, so that it cannot exert itself with the 
grasp and energy that it knows truly belongs to it. 

§ 12. The human mind is limited also 
In intensity, jn its intensity. 

The force with which it acts may in- 
crease indefinitely, but it never can become compa- 
rable to the force of the infinite mind. In infancy 
and childhood it is very imbecility and weakness ; 
in adult life, it is relatively strong and vigorous; 
yet while we anticipate from the very instincts of 



14 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

our nature an ever advancing increase of power, this 
instinctive anticipation never looks forward even to 
a near approach to the power of the infinite mind. 
So, too, it is variable in respect to the strength already 
in a sense acquired. At one time it is listless, dull, 
heavy, even as compared with what it had been a 
few hours before. At another time it is compara- 
tively quick, bright, and vigorous ; it observes, and 
judges, and feels, and acts with far greater prompt- 
ness and keenness and force. 

§ 13. The human mind, moreover, is 
Dependent on limited in being dependent on its object 
for the exercise of whatever range and 
intensity of capacity actually belong to it. It can- 
not act at all without an object. • 

After some experience, indeed, its own thoughts 
and feelings and endeavors may be objects to it. 
Upon these it may exercise its various functions with- 
out looking out of itself. But at first absolutely, and 
ever to a great extent, it depends on objects out of 
itself. For the most part these objects are out of 
its reach. They must be brought to it. 

§ 14. The dependence of the human mind on its 
objects is of a threefold character. 

First, the mind is dependent on its need- 

I Presence of g^l objCCtS COmiug tO it. 
object. -' » 

At the first, as the mind is without 
any experience, it cannot know what objects there 
are for it to act upon, or where such objects are to 
be found. It knows not even that it is to act or 
can act at all, for it knows literally nothing. The 
first activity is to be awakened and called forth by 



DEPENDENCE OF THE- HUMAN MIND. 1 5 

some object being brought to it. That first object 
presented to it comes to it by no agency of the mind 
at all, for it knows nothing of there being any such 
object till the object comes to it and awakens it to 
active life. Consequently, what particular one of its 
several functions, what department of its active 
nature, so to speak, is to be addressed, it cannot de- 
termine for itself, for it knows nothing of object or 
function. And so ever afterwards, objects come to 
it without its choice, and engage its activity in forms 
which not itself, but the objects themselves, in a 
great measure, if not wholly, determine. 

The universe of objects around it, is disposed and 
moved by a power without itself, and altogether 
beyond its control. 

§ 15. Secondly, the human mind is de- 
2. Channels and pendent for its objects to a great degree 
upon channels or means that are not 
under its own control. 

It is thus dependent on the thousand channels 
and means by which objects are introduced to it. 
But we need here only instance that wonderful 
assemblage of channels and organs compacted to- 
gether in the human body. These organs which w^e 
term the senses, one or the other of them, convey to 
the mind its first object and afterwards all the new 
objects about which it acts. The light of the sun 
comes in vain to it, except for the organ of the eye 
through which alone the mind is reached. The 
music which fills the air around gives no sense of 
melody except for the ear which conveys it from 
without. Over these senses, the mind has, before 



1 6 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

they have awakened its first experience, of course no 
control, since, by the supposition, it has till then no 
knowledge ;. and afterwards, while it may use and 
direct them to a limited extent, yet its power over 
them is extremely limited. It cannot hinder disease 
from weakening or destroying them ; it cannot pre- 
vent their becoming weary and dull. They are, more- 
over, in themselves limited organs. They can reach 
but few objects comparatively in the vast universe ; 
they can of these accessible objects convey but a 
few at a time. 

§ 1 6. Thirdly, the human mind is limit- 
3- Control of ed in its control over its objects when 

object. ^ ^ 

actually brought to it. 

These objects often force themselves upon it and 
domineer over its thoughts, its feelings, and its 
endeavors. Perhaps the mind never more sensibly 
feels its weakness and its dependence than when it 
strives to banish from its thoughts a disagreeable 
object. A wrong action, an ill-timed word, a mis- 
taken step, which causes shame and remorse, how 
it will fasten itself upon the mind, disturb its rest, 
haunt its dreams, poison every pleasure, in spite of 
the mind's utmost effort to expel it. 

Thus dependent is the human mind. Its active 
nature must have objects to go out upon. But 
they are out of its reach and are brought to it 
through channels and organs beyond its control, and 
then often when they are brought to it against its 
will, it lies helpless, without strength or skill to 
banish them or to hinder their return. 



THE PASSIVITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 1/ 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE PASSIVITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 

§ 17. The human mind is passive. 
Passivity of xhe mind receives impressions from 

the multitude of objects around it. It 
comes in contact with them at every turn. It can- 
not avoid them altogether. Indeed, it must have 
been impressed by them in some way before it 
could know that they are to be avoided. Only as it 
is able to put itself out of the universe of God can 
it escape impressions from the objects around it. 

Moreover, as we have seen, the mind cannot act 
itself unless thus impressed. It must be passive in 
order to be active. The first act is called forth by 
some object impressing it. And ever after, the 
indispensable condition of any exertion of its ac- 
tivity is its receiving some impression from some 
object. 

§ 18. The mind is passive or suffers 
Twofold. impressions both from objects out of 

itself and also from its own states. 
The first impression is ever from some object 
external to itself. And through the whole 
without course of its history, new objects are perpet- 
ually coming in, some sought, some un- 
sought, some acceptable, some disagreiable, and 
making each its own impression upon it. 



l8 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

§ 19. The mind, too, suffers impressions 
2 From within ^^^^^ ^^^ *^^^ States. A memory of past 

dangers impresses it, and from the im- 
pression a feehng of gratitude, a thought of wise pre- 
caution, a purpose of self-protection, arise in it. 
It feels an emotion of anger ; and the feeling reacts 
and impresses it with a sense of shame. It thinks 
out a new discovery, and the thought impresses it 
with exultation. It resolves on some noble deed, 
and the purpose reacts and impresses it with joyful 
self-complacency. Thus one thought, impressing the 
mind as passive to such impressions, becomes the 
occasion of a second thought ; and this of a third ; 
and so on. One feelino- in like manner reacts on 
the passive mind, and impresses a second feeling, or 
gives strength to the first, and this feeling becomes 
ever the occasion of new feeling. It is the same way 
with purposes. They react and impress the passive 
mind according to their own character, or according 
to the condition of the mind itself at the time. 

§ 20. The impressions on the mind vary 
Varying with its ^[^i^ ^-^q varying states of the mind. 

own states. -^ ^ 

At one time the mind is more pas- 
sive, more susceptible of impressions. In infancy, 
it has little control over itself, and takes just what 
impressions the object is fitted to make. The adult 
mind has acquired the power both to resist impres- 
sions to a certain degree, and also to determine 
within certain limits what kind of impression 
shall be made upon it. An angry blow, which would 
provoke unavoidable resentment in a child, may, in 
the trained and cultivated soul, only call forth 



THE PASSIVITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. If) 

forgiveness and beneficence. But in any one of the 
great stages of life on different days, or even at 
different hours, the soul is variously affected by the 
same object, on account of the varying condition of 
its own experience. 

§21. The mind, accordingly, while es- 
Active andpas-sentially active in its nature and thus 

sive at the same -^ _ 

time. ever exerting its activity in relation to 

some object, is also passive in so far as receiving 
and retaining that object before it. It is thus both 
active and passive at the same time. 

" There is no operation of mind," says Sir 
William Hamilton, " which is purely active ; no 
affection which is purely passive. In every mental 
modification, action and passion are the two neces- 
sary elements or factors of which it is composed. 
But though both are always present, each is not, 
however, always present in equal quantity. Some- 
times the one preponderates, sometimes the other." 

When action preponderates so as to characterize 
the mental state, we speak of the mind as 2, faculty ; 
when passion or feeling predominates, we speak of 
it as a capacity. We have thus a faculty of knowing 
truth and a capacity of receiving truth or knowl- 
edge ; we have a faculty of creating beautiful forms, 
and we have a capacity of feeling beautiful forms ; 
we have a faculty of doing good ; we have a capacity 
of feeling kindness. A mental faculty is the mind's 
ability to act in some way ; a mental capacity is the 
mind's ability to feel in some way. 

§ 22. Not only is the human mind ever 
^ttended^witr receiving impressions from objects with- 
pieasurc. q^^^ ^^^ also f rom its own acts and states 



20 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF THE MIND. 

becoming so far objects to it, but it also experiences 
a pleasure from its very activity and susceptibility 
when in legitimate exercise. 

There is thus a pleasure in knowing, even aside 
from the character or nature of what is known. 
There is a kind of satisfaction in hearing bad news ; 
there is pleasure in knowing that which has not felt 
good in itself to us. We take a kind of satisfaction 
too in witnessing tragic scenes. Suffering and dis- 
tress interest us, even while they give us pain. 
Aside from the objects themselves as good or evil to 
us, there is a natural pleasure in our actions and 
our impressions in relation to them. We discover 
here a ground for the truth of the familiar saying 
that sympathy doubles joys and divides griefs. We 
see here also why we love life and shrink from the 
thought of its coming to an end. 

This fundamental pleasure attending the legiti- 
mate acts and affections of our minds is enhanced 
when these acts and affections are felt to be in har- 
mony with their objects. If the objects of our 
study are exactly accordant with the activity and 
maturity of our intelHgence ; if they are recognized 
to be in harmony with the truths already in our 
minds, a higher, broader satisfaction is felt than 
that which attends the mere exercise of our minds. 

Not only must we presume from the perfect good- 
ness of the Creator that the legitimate use of all 
the powers with which he has endowed us must be 
good to us, must give us pleasure or joy, but in ad- 
dition to this, we must presume from his infinite 
perfection that the universe around us must be in 



THE PASSIVITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 21 

harmony with our natures, and, therefore, that the 
experience of this harmony between ourselves and 
the world of being and of events about us should 
be a source of joy to us. In this pure satisfaction 
and pleasure which fills our souls when we think 
and feel in respect to these objects, we find a test of 
truth, of beauty, and of moral goodness or rectitude. 
That can hardly be accepted to be true which when 
known gives us in the knowledge no satisfaction. 
The pleasure felt in beautiful objects is so prominent 
a part of our experience that some philosophers 
have made this the sole test of beauty in an object, 
that it gives us pleasure. In like manner the satis- 
faction of the moral sense is accepted as one lead- 
ing test of what is right and morally good. 



22 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE COXTIXUOUSXESS OF MIND, 

§ 23. The human mind is continuous 
Mental activity in its activity and in its passivity, 
continuous. ^^ -^ -^ essentially active, were it to 

cease its activity, it would lose its es- 
sential attribute and consequently cease to be. In 
the same way, were it to intermit its capacity to 
receive or retain an object for its activity, it must 
cease to be. 

We cannot, accordingly, conceive of a mind un- 
less as during its existence continuing to be affected 
by some object either external or internal arising 
from past experience and also continuing to act in 
relation to some object. 

Further, we have every reason to presume from 
its present acting and feeling, that it continues to 
act and feel during its entire existence ; for, as an 
existing power to act and feel, it has ever continu- 
ing to it all the necessary conditions of acting and 
feeling in the universe of objects about it. Only 
by passing out of this universe can it be placed be- 
yond these conditions. When the power to act exists 
and all the conditions of its acting continue to be 
supplied to it there is a necessity of its acting. 

Moreover, there is no good reason for supposing 
that it ever during its existence wholly intermits its 



THE CONTINUOUSNESS OF MIND. 23 

acting or its feeling. It is in sleep perhaps, 
that the mind, if ever, ceases to act or intermits its 
actions. It is true indeed that we cannot, when we 
awake, recall but little of any thinking or feeling 
that we have experienced while we have been asleep. 
But surely our inability to recollect what has passed 
in our minds at any time is not decisive proof that 
we did not think at all at that time. Many hours 
are passed when we are awake and our minds are 
known to be active, and yet after a day, or it may be 
after a few hours, we are unable to recall a solitary 
thought that was in our minds during the time. It 
is often the case, indeed, that when we are asked 
what we have been thinking of during the previous 
hour we find it difficult to tell much, and impossible 
to recollect all. 

Many facts, still further, prove the continuous, 
unintermitting activity of the mind during sleep. 
When we wake, we very often notice that our minds 
are occupied with a train of thoughts which had 
commenced during sleep. The often observed rest- 
lessness of persons while asleep show that their 
minds are agitated by some subject. We naturally 
and legitimately infer that it is only because the 
thoughts are not of so exciting a nature that they 
do not disclose themselves in more tranquil sleep. 

The remarkable facts of sleep-walking — Som- 
nambulism — show us that the mind may act 
through a period of several hours in incessant and 
very energetic activity, and yet be unable, when it 
is over, to recollect anything that has occurred dur- 
ing the sleep. These facts, which are well accred- 



24 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

ited, are such as working out difficult problems, 
executing nice processes of art, directing the feet 
securely along very difficult passages, performing" 
feats of mind and of body beyond all that is possible 
in wakefulness. Somnambulists are nevertheless 
generally unable when the sleep is over to recall any 
thing that has happened during those hours of dis- 
turbed slumber. 

This never intermitted continuousness 
sonaiMenUtyr ^^ mental activity enables us to know 
that we are the same beings to-day that 
we were yesterday. It furnishes the sufficient and 
only decisive evidence of our personal identity. If a 
link were to fall out in this continuous chain of our 
mental life, the chain would break into parts that we 
should be wholly unable to reunite. There would 
be a chasm that the mind could not recross. All its 
thoughts and feelings before the interruption must 
remain to it strange and foreign ; the acts of another 
being than itself. It is because and only because I 
can send the electric thought of my present soul 
back along the successive, undissevered links of my 
past thought to the thought of yesterday, and of last 
year, of any past epoch of my life, that I know that 
thought to be the thought of my present self and 
myself to be the same I who think now, that thought 
then and thought that thought. 

This image of an unbroken chain is inadequate 
to the full truth of the case. The thought of yester- 
day is itself in my mind in a true sense to-day. I 
am different to-day from what I should be but for 
that thought ; my mental life is changed by it. If I 



THE CONTINUOUSNESS OF MIND. 25 

could be conscious of the minutest affections of my 
soul, if with omniscient ken, I could discern the 
entire body of my present thought, I should discover 
that thought of yesterday still living within the body 
of my present living thought. We know that 
thoughts which greatly interest us, strong feelings, 
important purposes, do thus reach along and live along 
in us for days or even years. There is nothing cer- 
tainly in the nature of the more trivial thoughts or 
feelings or purposes of our minds, so different from 
these more notable experiences, which forbids the 
supposition that they also live on as well ; only our 
finite minds are unable to discover them. It is 
thus I know myself to be the same being I was yester- 
day, a year ago, by knowing that the thoughts of 
yesterday and of last year are still in my mind, the 
same thoughts, however modified by subsequent 
experience, however differently related to other 
thoughts in my mind, the same thoughts still. Be- 
cause they are the same, I who thought and think 
then am the same. 

§ 24. This continuousness of mental life 
Habit defined. jg ^]-^g ground and essential element of 

Jiabit. 
Habit is the holding on of the mind in any kind 
of acting or feeling. Habit presupposes some first 
starting or origination of an act or feeling from some 
cause, and denotes the continuance of the act or feel- 
ing without necessary repetition of the act of causing 
or originating. It belongs to every department of 
our mental life. A particular kind of feeling, the more 
it is allowed, the more prevails, the more easily re- 



26 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

turns. The mind becomes more yielding to the ob- 
ject of it, more impressible by it. The organs of 
sense — the nerves of the eye or of the ear — may be- 
come more and more dull, but the mental sensibility 
becomes more ready and yielding. The thought 
that has once been awakened in the mind comes 
more easily on the second occasion. It prevails 
more and more as it is more frequently repeated, till 
at length it bears itself along as it were by its own 
acquired strength ; it holds on and usurps a place in 
the experience, even crowding out perhaps other 
thoughts that seek to enter and engaging the men- 
tal activity more and more with itself. 

This habit of mind in regard to thought, 
Memory. in regard to everything which w^e know 

or of .which we are conscious, is the 
main element in memory. This is indeed all there 
is in simple memory as distinguished from recollec- 
tion ; a simple holding on of a thought in the mental 
life, or the holding on of the mind to a thought it 
has once experienced. 

Habit, as already observed, attaches as 
infeeiiigs. well to fecUng as to thought. A par- 
ticular feeling allowed repeatedly be- 
comes a passion ruling sometimes over all the 
faculties of the soul. It springs up into prominence 
on the slightest occasion. A word, even a memory, 
brings it to the surface of the consciousness. It 
lives on, defying our best effort to extirpate or crush 
it. Feelings of cheerfulness, of anger, of pity, of con- 
fidence, and the like, come to be so habitual, to appear 
so leadily and surely on every occasion, that the 



THE CONTINUOUSNESS OF MIND. 2/ 

character is marked by them and the man is recog- 
nized by all as one in whom these dispositions reign 
continuously. 

. Habit attaches likewise to purposes, to 
In purposes. all Voluntary acts. What we do often, we 
come to do almost or quite unconscious- 
ly. We purpose to take a walk ; the purpose holds 
on and bears us along over long distances, with- 
out ever coming up again into distinct conscious- 
ness. We take step after step, we shun obstacles, 
we turn corners ; the purpose holds on through all, 
and we take no heed of it unless arrested in our way 
by some obstacle or some diversion, as by some 
friend meeting us, or by some new object or occupa- 
tion coming into our minds. In the same way dex- 
terity and skill are acquired by this holding on of 
purpose, directing the movements of our hands, our 
fingers, or our feet. In order to touch the keys 
aright for playing a given melody there is at first a 
necessity for a special purpose or volition to move 
the fingers for each separate note. As the tune is 
played over and over, the fingers come to move as if 
of themselves. We are conscious of no special pur- 
pose or volition ; but it must yet be there, governing 
every movement. It holds on and as new energy is 
imparted to it by every repetition it becomes finally 
strong and quick and executes rapidly, accurately, 
skillfully, This continuousness of purpose, this habit 
of endeavor, is the condition of all right and good 
character. Only as the past purpose lives on, can 
there be anything, in the intention at least, to make 
the future like the past ; and life and action would 



28 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

without this continuousness be a succession of un- 
related purposes and acts determined not by an inner 
principle but by outer occasion, so that there could 
be no such thing as proper character. 

§ 25. This continuousness of mental ac- 
growfh!°" °^ tivity and passiveness, once more, is the 
condition and chief element in all mental 
growth. 

Everything that lives and acts may grow in two 
different ways : it may grow in size and fullness ; it 
may grow also in intensity and vigor. Growth of 
mind in either way is dependent on this attribute of 
continuousness. Thought thus grows in range and 
extent and also in fullness and richness, only as the 
past thought continues, to which a new thought may 
unite itself and thus add expansion or increase of 
content. Just so thought increases its power only 
as the momentum of its past action continues, to 
which the momentum of a new exertion of thought 
may be added. 

Feeling, in the same way, enlarges its capacity 
and quickens its sensibility, only as the past feeling 
continues to swell and soften the heart. He only that 
has himself felt sorrow can well sympathize with the 
sorrowing. The larger the experience of sorrow, 
the larger room is there for sympathy to enter and 
abide. It is so with all the modes of feeling. Hope 
expands and enlarges with allowance on its legitimate 
objects. Love, by taking more and more of its 
object into its affection, widens its range and extends 
its sphere. The feelings, likewise, grow warmer 
and more intense as they are continuously indulged. 



THE CONTINUOUSNESS OF MIND. 29 

Pity and compassion, that have been often moved, 
respond more quickly and tenderly to new objects. 
The philanthropist — he who lives a humane and chari- 
table and loving life — has not only a larger but a 
warmer heart than the ordinary man. The artist, 
accustomed to contemplate and enjoy objects of art, 
not only has a larger expanse of sensibility to be 
touched by beauty, but responds more sensitively to 
the address of every beautiful form ; his admiration 
is both richer and deeper, both fuller and livelier. 

Purpose and endeavor, likewise, grow by virtue 
of this continuousness of all purpose and endeavor. 
They grow in breadth and compass. The child can 
extend its plans, its purposes, only to a very limited 
range of things ; he grows to the large capacity of 
a man's will and endeavors by adding to the part 
which he still holds some new field of action. His 
resolutions and determinations grow also in energy, 
in strength, as he repeats resolutions and actions, 
and carries the momentum of the past into the 
strength of the future. 



30 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS OF MIND. 

§ 26. The mind is conscious of its acts and 
feelings. 

This proposition indirectly involves the 
Self-conscious- truth that the mind knows and feels that 

ness explained. 

it is itself that acts and feels ; that itself 
is the subject of these changes. It implies, therefore, 
that each mind is distinct from all other minds, all 
its actions its own and not another's. Language is 
sometimes used which seems, if literally interpreted, 
to teach that our thoughts and feelings and purposes 
are but the one thought and feeling and purpose of 
the race or of the universe of rational beings — one 
continuous vibration, one throb of all being, repeating 
itself over and over — and so my thought is but the 
one thought of God or the Infinite One who is the 
only rea] existence, and comprises all things in his 
single nature. But while thought may be common, 
it is yet distinct and ever the separate act of each 
separate mind, just as the common bending of the 
whole wheat field is yet the bending of each indi- 
vidual stalk, and the common flow of the river the 
distinct movement of every drop, every molecule of 
water. This .is a fundamental element in the nature 
of self-consciousness, that the mind is distinct from 
other minds, so that its acts are its own acts and 
not another's. 



THE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS OF MIND. 3 1 

§ 27. Self-consciousness immediately 
Its immediate rcspects not the mind itself in its es- 

object. ^ 

sence, not the conscious subject as dis- 
tinct from its actions, but more exactly the mind it- 
self as acting in some specific way. 

There could, indeed, be no self-consciousness 
except on condition of particular operations or affec- 
tions of mind, since the mind exists only as acting 
and its nature imposes upon it the necessity of 
acting in some specific way. These specific concrete 
activities of mind are a.t once the occasions and the 
proper objects of consciousness. Where there are 
acts indeed we recognize at once that there is an 
agent and so distinguish in our thought the act 
from the doer. Only in thought, however, is there 
this separation of agent and act. In every specific 
instance of thinking, feeling, or willing, the mind is 
of course necessarily present It is ever the mind 
thinking, feeling, or willing which is the immediate 
and proper object of self-consciousness. 

§ 28. In self-consciousness there is both 
In knowing knowinsf and feeling: : the mind both knows 

and feehng. ^ , 

and feels that its acts are actuaLand that 
they are its own. In it, the mind has for itself both 
light and heat. 

The term consciousness comes from a root or 
stem properly signifying knowledge. But, as is often 
the case with words, it is used in a broader sense than 
this,»embracing feeling as well as knowledge proper. 
We as truly feel that the thought we put forth, the 
feeling we indulge, the purpose we form, exists and 
is our own as know them to be and to be our 



32 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

own. We accordingly feel displeasure or compla- 
cency, a sense of shame or pride in our thoughts and 
feelings. These thoughts and feelings, besides reveal- 
ing themselves to our intelligence so that we become 
cognizant of them, impress themselves on our pas- 
sive nature so that we feel as well as know them. 
Indeed, the knowledge, here as elsewhere, presup- 
poses this impression on our passive nature. 

In self-consciousness, therefore, we both know 
our own thoughts, our own feelings, our own pur- 
poses and also feel our thoughts, our feelings, our 
purposes. 

The mind's own changes are thus objects to it 
as really as the changes in the external world. The 
mind knows and feels its own acts and feelings just 
as it knows and feels visible and other objects around. 
These two classes of object have sometimes been 
distinguished from each other ; an object without 
the mind being called object-object, and an object 
within the mind sitbject-object. 

§ 29. Self-consciousness still further 
Degrees. varics in degree. 

The light in which it recognizes the 
changes in the mind's activity, the warmth in which it 
feels them, vary from darkness to perfect clearness, 
from coldness to burning heat. The very finiteness 
of the human mind involves this. It can no more take 
cognizance of all its own modifications at any one 
moment, it can no more feel impressions from all 
these states at once, than it can know and feel all 
that passes in the world around it at once. 



THE SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS OF MIND. 33 

In self-consciousness the mind is conceived as 
standing apart from itself and observing its own 
movements, the volume of its activity rolling on be- 
fore its eye. It is able only to receive what light and 
heat come to it from that side which is exposed to 
its view. It can notice only a part. The great 
part of its activity lies out of its view. It may be 
none the less there — actually existing, so that an 
omniscient eye would discern it ; so that what is 
now concealed from its own sight might come into 
view by a change of position. Yet in fact a great 
part of the modifications of its own activity are at 
the time entirely in the dark ; only a small part is 
in the fullest light that can ever come to it ; and the 
rest are in clouded light shaded in all degrees from 
undimmed brightness to the confines of perfect dark- 
ness. 

We recognize, however, certain stages in this 
varying light and heat. We speak of being fully 
conscious, clearly or distinctly conscious ; we speak 
of being feebly or indistinctly conscious ; and we also 
speak of being entirely unconscious. 

While all mental states and acts are, as a general 

fact, within the range of consciousness, only a part, 

a very small part indeed, are at any one time in 

actual view. An omniscient mind might see them 

all ; the finite human mind cannot. Nor can the 

human mind distinguish the exact outlines, the form 

and figure, the exact degree of brightness or intensity 

in any state, any more than it can mark off the lines 

which bound the brightened frontage of a rounded 

column from its receding sides. The light and 
2* 3 



34 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

warmth of consciousness are graded down by indis- 
tinguishable degrees from the highest to the lowest. 
They are measured only by comparison and rela- 
tively. The human consciousness varies in feeble- 
ness and power with native vigor, with bodily health 
and condition, with advance in age and experience, 
with growth and culture. 



RELATIVENESS OF THE MIND, ETC. 35 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE RELATIVENESS OF THE MIND TO ITS 
OBJECTS. — IDEAS. 

§ 30. The mind can be known by us 
Mind known Only as it cxists in relation to its 

only in its rela- , . 
tions to object. ODJCCtS. 

Its action necessarily respects an 
object ; its passive nature equally implies an object. 
It is because of this necessary relation of its acts 
and feelings to some object that it is called tJie sub- 
ject, the conscious subject. 

Of what is called the substance of the mind, it is 
familiarly said, we know nothing. We can no more 
perceive any such substance with the inner eye of 
the soul than with the outer eye of the body. We 
can know no object in fact but through its attri- 
butes ; and as the essential nature of the mind is 
activity, we can have no knowledge of mind except 
through its action. But action implies an object ; 
and thus it is that only as the mind goes out in 
its action towards some object, are we able to 
recognize any form of its activity. Only then can we 
recognize the fact that the mind exists, and also 
that it acts in any particular way. 

§ 31. All such objects for the mind are 
called Ideas. We may thus define idea 



2,6 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

in the words of Locke, to be " whatever it is the 
mind can be employed about." 

When we think of the sun, the sun is the object 
of our thought, and, so far, it is the idea before our 
minds. When we feel the warmtli or the hght of 
the sun, just so far the sun is object to our sensibiUty 
and as such object it becomes idea, impressing our 
passive nature, entering into our souls and occasion- 
ing feeling — sensation — in them. 

§ 32. Nothing but idea is object for the 

Idea sole object n^ii^c]^ 
to mind. 

Certainly when we say that the sun 
is in our thoughts we do not mean that the real 
object itself — that the huge, round, burning, material 
sun — is literally in them, but only that the idea of the 
sun is in them ; we have, in thinking of it, not the 
actual sun itself in our minds but an idea of the sun. 
It is only in a kind of figure that we say the sun is in 
our thought. Such language is allowable ; it conveys 
a truth ; it is perhaps the simplest, easiest, most nat- 
ural way of expressing the fact in words. But the 
exactness and precision of science impose upon us 
the necessity of putting a strict construction, and the 
true construction, into our words and statements. 

§ 33. Nothingbut mind is subject for idea. 
Mind sole object Jdcas are certainly not for matter, as 

for ideas. ^ , ■" 

we conceive it to be. To the rock, all 
idea is as nothing. All objects, in so far as they are 
ideas, are for mind alone. 

The conclusion, accordingly, is that mind, as 
active, and idea are perfect correlatives. Each is 
exclusively for the other. 



RELATIVENESS OF THE MIND, ETC. 3/ 

§ 34. This relation between mind and 
Twofold reia- [r[Q^ jg twofold I — the mind orio^inates 

tionship or _ ... 

mind and ideas, ideas and the mind receives ideas. And 
conversely, ideas are of mind and for 
mind. 

The sun in the heavens is but the Creator's idea 
of the sun reaUzed. The attributes, round, bright, 
warm, heavy, moving, attracting, and the like, con- 
stituted the elements of his idea — his plan, his de- 
sign, — as he determined to create the sun and make 
it real. The Creator had an idea of the sun when 
he made it. The sun is the Creator's idea realized. 
We, too, have an idea of the sun. Its elements are 
the attributes which constitute the sun and make it 
what it is. By apprehending these attributes we 
obtain an idea of it. The sun, by being thus ap- 
prehended, becomes our idea. 

The human mind, as well as the divine mind, 
originates ideas. The machinist forms an idea of a 
system of machinery. He puts this idea into the 
matter which he finds formed and shaped for his 
use — into wood and iron. His idea is in the com- 
pleted machine, and we, by studying its parts and 
its adaptations, apprehend his idea; it then becomes 
our idea of the machine. 

The machinist, perhaps, never, with all his 
study and labor of thought, attained a perfect idea 
of a perfect machine ; but however perfect his idea 
of it may have been, he never succeeded in realizing 
it perfectly — in embodying his idea so that it should 
be just as perfect in the wood and iron. Moreover, 
our idea of the machine, however perfectly embody- 



38 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

ing the idea of the inventor, may not be perfect ; — • 
we may not understand it as fully and exactly as 
the maker. As it respects the human mind thus, 
neither the idea as originated, as designed and 
formed by it, nor the idea as apprehended, as 
received into it, can be regarded as perfect and 
complete. 

The ideas of the Infinite mind, as formed and 
designed in it, are on the contrary, perfect and com- 
plete, and the ideas as apprehended by it and re- 
ceived into it we must conceive to be equally per- 
fect and coQiplete. 

The created universe is God's idea ; and all 
specific objects and arrangements in it are his ideas 
realized. These ideas of his, as thus revealed in 
his works and ways, are all we know of him. They 
are, as Cousin, interpreting the doctrine of Plato 
respecting ideas, justly says, " nothing else than the 
manner of existence of Eternal Reason." 

Each part of God's idea in the universe is a par- 
ticular idea to us. The human mind can at best appre- 
hend but parts and but partially. Still each part 
even but dimly apprehended is an idea to us ; and 
what we do not apprehend may be objects to higher 
or more advanced minds, and all is apprehensible by 
the Infinite mind. We are accordingly not to con- 
clude that because we have exhausted our power of 
apprehending any part, any object, any arrangement 
in God's universe, there may not be other parts of 
the general idea — other specific ideas — within the 
reach of other minds. 



RELATIVENESS OF THE MIND, ETC. 39 

§ 35. Idea, as both of mind and for 
Idea defined. mind, may more fully and exactly be 
defined to be any form of mental 
activity. 

Mind, as essentially active, exerts itself or goes 
forth in some form more or less specific. Only as 
it acts in some such specific way can it act at all, 
or, since it is by its" nature essentially active, even 
exist ; and only as it acts in such form can any 
other mind know or feel its activity or its existence. 

The Creator has put His activity in matter. The 
creative spirit, as we are taught, brooded over chaos — 
formless, motionless matter — and shaped its creative 
ideas in it. Chaos receives from this creative act, 
form, extension, limitation in outline and shape ; 
receives also moving form, as attractive and repelling 
force. It, then, as thus formed, comes within the 
capacity of our minds. We know matter only as 
thus shaped and formed. Matter in fact is to us 
only bare receptivity for ideas. Mind, on the contrary, 
while passive, impressible, and thus capacity for 
ideas, like matter, is also faculty of ideas, former, 
originator of ideas. In this lies the grand distinc- 
tion, so far as we know them, between mind and 
matter. Mind forms ideas ; matter is formed by 
ideas. Mind originates ideas, matter merely receives 
ideas. Matter is bare receptivity for ideas ; min I 
is the capacity for ideas, and faculty of ideas. 

§ 36. Any expressed idea, that is, any 
Idea threefold, form of mental activity, may be appre- 
hended either as true, or as beautiful, or 
as good. 



40 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

The sun, as an idea of the Creator, reahzed and 
presented to our view so that we can apprehend 
it or take it into our minds and thus make it our 
own idea, is to us either true, or beautiful, or good, 
as we choose or happen to regard it at the time. We 
may say thus of the sun, in one view, that it is a true 
thing ; in another view, that it is a beautiful thing ; 
and in a third view, that it is a good thing. 

These three characteristics of the sun are very 
unlike such characteristics as round, bright, warm. 
We can conceive of a sun that should be without one 
or indeed without any of these characters, although 
not without some such characters. We can conceive 
of a sun that should be jagged or angular in its out- 
line ; perhaps of a sun that should give no light, or 
one that should give warmth without light ; but we 
cannot conceive- of a sun that should not be either 
true or false ; or that should not be either beautiful 
or ugly ; either good or bad. 

Roundness, brightness, warmth, weight or gravi- 
tating force, and the other like attributes of the sun, 
make up and constitute the sun what it is. If we 
were to suppose one of these attributes to be ab- 
stracted from the sun, it would be still a sun, — a 
different sun, but still a real, existing thing. But the 
true, the beautiful, and the good do not, by being 
combined together in any such way, make up and 
constitute the sun. We cannot abstract one of these 
attributes and leave any thing behind as real and 
actually existing. If the sun be not true, it cannot be 
beautiful or good ; it cannot, indeed, be at all. These 
three, then, the true, the beautiful, and the good, are 



RELATIVENESS OF THE MIND, ETC. 4I 

equally necessary in every object for the mind. It 
is possible for the mind, however, to confine its view 
of any object to any one of these three aspects or 
phases of the object, and thus the object for the 
time will be in this view true, or beautiful, or good. 
Indeed it is difficult, if not impossible, for the finite 
mind of man to take in all these pli^ases fully at once. 
It yet ever remains possible for it in contemplating 
any object whatever, to regard any one of these three 
attributes at pleasure, and to pass from one to the 
other at pleasure. 

§ 37. We have an idea of an object as 
Idea as true. true wlicu wc apprehend it in its es- 
sence, in its constitution or its making 
up ; and accordingly regard it as having certain at- 
tributes. 

We have an idea of the sun as true, thus, when 
we apprehend it in its attributes as round, bright, in 
the heavens, and this like. 

Under the general notion of the true, it should 
be observed here, is comprehended both the true in 
its stricter sense and the false or the contradictory 
of the true, and furthermore the imperfectly true, 
or the mingled true and false. 

An object is strictly true, when all its attributes 
are harmoniously united in it. We apprehend a true 
sun when we apprehend -'t as having its essential 
attributes, — its roundness, brightness, etc., — all con- 
gruously uniied in it. 

An object is false, when it is represented to us 
with attributes none of which, belong to it or if be- 
longing to it in any sense are not congruously united 



42 GENEEAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

in it. An idea of the sun which should contain in it 
the attribute of being angular or cold or without 
gravity or should combine in it incongruous attri- 
butes, as being of curved and also of rectilinear 
figure, is a false idea. 

An object is imperfectly true to our thought 
when some attributes that are true enter into the 
idea of it together with some that are false ; or 
when the attributes are incongruously put together 
in it. 

§ 38. We have an idea of an object as 
As beautiful. bcautiful wl'ieu wc apprehend it as having 
form, by virtue of which we can receive 
it into our minds. 

We have an idea of the sun thus as beautiful 
when we apprehend it in its form, by virtue of which 
we can see its outline, feel its warmth, and the 
like. 

Under the general notion of the beautiful as 
inclusive of all form, there are comprehended not 
only the beautiful in the positive and the strict sense, 
but also the positively ugly and the imperfectly 
beautiful, or the mingled of the positively beautiful 
and the ugly. 

§ 39. We have an idea of an object as 
As good. good wdien we apprehend it as having 

some beneficial effect or result or a 
tendency to produce beneficial effect. 

Every idea or form of mind must, as the mind 
is essentially active, regard an end, a result. Every 
idea of a perfect mind, as of God, must be perfectly 
good, perfectly beneficial, working only blessing in 



RELATIVENESS OF THE MIND, ETC, 43 

its proper tendency and result. Every idea of an 
imperfect mind must have a tendency to a like result 
as positively good or positively bad or imperfectly 
good, being mingled of the positively good and the 
bad. 

We have thus under the general notion of the 
good the three phases, as before, the positively good, 
the positively bad, and. the imperfectly good. 

These three great comprehensive ideas, the true, 
the beautiful, and the good, appertaining alike to 
every object which can come into our mental experi- 
ence, are thus distinguished from one another : The 
true respects the essence — the relation of the attri- 
butes as congruously united in it ; the beautiful 
respects the form ; the good respects the end in 
tendency or result. 

§ 40. The true, the beautiful, and the 
The three ideas good are, respectively, objccts for the 
toTeSSelint intelligence, the sensibility, and the 

tions of mind. will 

The true as object thus, is the proper 
correlative of the intelligence as subject. The true 
is exclusively for the mind as intelligent, and the 
intelligence is exclusively conversant with idea as 
true. 

The beautiful as object is, in like manner, the 
proper correlative of the sensibility. The beauti- 
ful is exclusively for the mind as feeling ; and the 
sensibility is exclusively conversant with idea as 
beautiful. 

In the same way, the good is the proper correla- 
tive of the will. The good is exclusively for the- 



44 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES ^ OF MIND, 

mind as willing, and the will is exclusively conver- 
sant with the good. 

The fuller expositions of the meaning of each of 
these general statements and the proofs of them 
will be presented in the several books that follow. 
It is sufficient here to remark that all the facts of 
mind, all its phenomena, may be distributed into 
classes either in respect to the mind itself as con- 
scious subject, or in respect to the objects which its 
activity respects. In the former alternative, classify- 
ing the phenomena of mind in respect to the sub- 
ject, we have the subjective classification, — that 
which gives the phenomena of the intelligence, those 
of the sensibility, and those of the will. In the latter 
alternative, classifying in respect to the object of 
mental activity, we have the objective classification, 
— that which gives the phenomena of the true, 
those of the beautiful, and those of the good. It 
is obvious to remark that if these long accepted and 
well established classifications be recognized as 
correct, they must be exactly coincident ; the object- 
ive distribution must exactly correspond with the 
subjective; the objective and the subjective must be 
exact correlatives. 

The difficulties that may seem to beset this rec- 
ognition of the exact correspondence between these 
classifications of mental phenomena will be found to 
pass away as the habits of our thinking become 
better familiarized with the correspondence, so far at 
least as the difficulties do not spring from erroneous 
views of certain facts of mind or representations in 
language that are inadequate or inexact. It may 



GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 45 

be that a comparison of the particular results to 
which the two classifications respectively lead will 
result in a modification of our views of some of the 
phenomena of mind. The study of each in the light 
of the other will certainly help to clearer views and 
larger knowledge. 



46 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

SYMBOLS OF MIND- 

§ 41. We are very prone to think of the 
Mind Symbol- mind as we think of spmethina" that we 

ized. . 

have seen ; to represent it to our thoughts 
as if it had form or figure or size. And in speaking 
of the acts and states of the mind, writers fall very 
naturally into the use of images and illustrations 
taken from outward material objects. Thus in its 
acquisition of knowledge, the soul has been likened 
By waxen tablets, to a smooth table of wax Oil which 
ideas are written. And Plato speaks 

By piece of wax. 

of a kind of waxen material in our 
souls ; in one larger, in another smaller ; in one 
purer, in another more impure ; in one harder, in an- 
other softer. In another place he illustrates the 
acquisition and the recollection of our ideas under 

the figure of a pigeon house into which 
By pigeon houses, a man gathers the birds he has snared, 

and in which he keeps them till he 
has occasion to use them, when he goes and takes out 
su:h as he wishes. So we acquire ideas when we 
catch them and put them away into our pigeon house ; 
we have them there after we have thus acquired 
them, and when we wish to use them we go and 
take what we please. But here is the source of 
mistake and error. As these acquired ideas are flying 



SYMBOLS OF MIND. 4/ 

about in their cage we mistake one bird for another 
and take a pigeon instead of a dove, or in our haste and 
confusion satisfy ourselves with eleven birds when we 
think we have twelve. In the same way, it has been a 
very common practice with modern writers to repre- 
sent the mind as a bundle of faculties •. one of perceiv- 
ing, another of remembering, another of comparing, 
and the like. In all these comparisons or illustrations 
there is always the danger of extending the illustration 
too far. There is no perfectly adequate symbol of the 
human spirit in the material world. Many obj ects that 
we see may represent very vividly something that is 
true of the mind ; but it is ever to be regarded as an 
imperfect, partial, inadequate representation; and the 
use of any is to be attended with great care. Sub- 
ject to this precaution we may advantageously use 
that marvel of modern skill, the steam- 

Sr'^'''' ''''"" ^^^P' ^^ ^ symbol of the greatest won- 
der of divine wisdom on earth, the 
human spirit. It will help to present to our thoughts 
many at least of its attributes more vividly than can 
be done in mere abstract description. That the 
mind with all its diversity of faculties is yet one and 
simple, is imaged in the ship, single with all its di- 
versity of arrangements, capabilities, and outfit. It 
has hull and rigging ; it has sails and steam-eaginery ; 
it has keel and rudder ; it has ballast and cargo ; it has 
chart and log-book ; it can move only in water, but 
it can make water to furnish it motion ; it is impel- 
led by winds and currents from without and is driven 
also by a power which it carries within. But with 
all this diversity it is itself one and ever the same. 



48 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

It well illusti-ates this attribute of simplicity which 
characterizes the mind in all the diversity of its states 
and operations. As it is the same ship in its entire- 
ness that moves along, carrying with it sails and 
engine, rudder and log-book, drives its enginery when 
it catches the breeze, plies its rudder at the same 
time that it drifts with the current, so the same one 
mind in its entireness moves whenever it puts forth 
any exercise; it thinks while it feels ; it remembers 
while it perceives; it wills while it compares or 
judges. 

The mind's attribute of essential activity is also 
well imaged in this symbol. The ship afloat is never 
at rest, not even in the srreatest calm. The motion 
of an object that we can see is the best image we 
can form, although not an adequate image, of this 
restless activity of the human spirit. The mind 
was made to move ; to move ever till it reaches 
its haven and ever towards it. Its activity is not 
suspended even in the calm of sleep. 

The finiteness and dependence of the human 
spirit is, moreover, well imaged in this symbol. The 
ship cannot move at all except as it floats and can 
push its paddles against the ver}^ water which bears 
it. Nor can it even guide its motion but by the aid 
of this same resistance. 

On the other hand, as the ship has within 
itself its own power of motion, and can drive itself 
by means of the machinery within itself against 
wind and current, as well as guide its motion by 
means equally within itself, so the mind of man is 
self-active and self-directive while yet dependent 



SYMBOLS OF MIND. 49 

on the providence which sustains and which also 
impels and drives from without the mind and inde- 
pendently of it. 

Still further, this symbol images the continuous- 
ness of the mind's activity. The course made to- 
day is different from what it would be but for the 
course made at the very beginning of the voyage, and 
the course made each subsequent day will be modi- 
fied by the course of to-day. If to-day it is driven 
hither or thither by a breeze of passion, or has been 
borne away by a current of desire ; if it has been put 
far on its way by an unusual press of its enginery 
or been guided away far from its proper course by a 
careless or mistaken management of the rudder; the 
wind and the current and the whole motive power of 
to-morrow will find it in a different quarter and move 
upon it in a different way from what would have 
been the case had there been different feelings or 
exertions to-day. And the faithful log-book has all 
the advances and all the directions, and all the 
velocities of speed and all the days of tardiness and 
relaxation of power, traced exactly upon its pages. 

And this suggests still another feature of resem- 
blance. The human soul carries its faithful log-book, 
and it can read the courses and distances of its daily 
and hourly life. They are all traced there in inef- 
faceable characters. If in its long voyage it be diffi- 
cult to look at the records of its earlier movements, 
or if the few words that record the minuter experi- 
ences are lost in the long pages of the great scenes 
through which it has passed, they are yet all there — 
thoughts, passions, plans, and purposes, — all thereto 

4 



50 GENERAL ATTRIBUTES OF MIND. 

be found on a closer scrutiny than the hurry of the 
present hour may perhaps allow. The mind is self- 
conscious, and its past activity never becomes oblit- 
erated from the record of its progress. 



ITS NATURE AND ITS MODIFICATIONS. 5 1 

BOOK 11. 

THE SENSIBILITY. 



CHAPTER I. 

its nature and its modifications. 

§ 42. The sensibility is the mind's capacity 
OF feeling and impressing. 

This department of mental phenomena embraces 
all that takes place in the passive nature of the 
mind ; — all that it experiences as impressed or 
affected or in any way moved. Book L, chapter IV. 
It is so impressed or affected not only by beings 
and objects without itself ; but also by its own acts 
which react upon it and impress or affect it in various 
ways. § 19. 

§ 43. The mind is said to be in a state of sensi- 
bility or of feeling, when sensibility or feeling pre- 
dominates and characterizes the mental condition. 

In all probability the mind is never so completely 
engrossed with feeling as to intermit entirely its 
thinking and willing activities. These activities, 
even in the greatest excitements of feeling are, it may 
on good grounds be believed, only in relative depres- 
sion or are less prominently presented to the eye of 
consciousness. 

§ 44. Every mind accordingly stands in this 



52 THE SENSIBILITY, 

double relation to other minds : it is impressed by 
them and it also impresses them. 

This first of the three great departments of mental 
phenomena includes all that the mind experiences 
in this reciprocal action of mind on mind, whether 
as receiving or communicating. 

The term sensibility points more directly to the 
passive side, to the mind's capacity of receiving idea. 
This department of mind has accordingly been 
for the most part treated by writers on psychology 
as if having only a passive side, as if a mere capacity 
in the stricter sense of that word ; and the corre- 
sponding faculty of impressing has been treated as a 
department of the intelligence under the name of 
the imagination. But obviously, if the intelligence be 
recognized as simply a knowing or cognitive func- 
tion, this classification of the function of impressing 
is erroneous, for the imagination is not at all a cogni- 
tive power. Sensation, it may be remarked here, 
has also generally been presented as lying in the 
department of the intelligence, but with as little pro- 
priety as the imagination, unless they are regarded 
as mere conditions or sources or accompaniments of 
knowledge. 

§ 45. We have found §§ 31-34 that ideas are solely 
of mind and for mind ; and that mind is solely con- 
cerned with ideas. Now ideas, so far as they are 
regarded simply in the light of their being the 
interchange of minds, are in this aspect, in order to 
distinguish them from other aspects of ideas, denom- 
inated forms. 

The terms idea and form are of the same origin. 



ITS NATURE AND ITS MODIFICATIONS. 53 

They are consequently of the closest affinity. They 
are often properly used interchangeably. But they 
are not exactly synonymous. When used for exact 
philosophical statement, form denotes only this one 
aspect of idea just stated — of idea as interchange of 
minds or medium between minds. 

The sensibility, accordingly, being but the mind 
communicating or interchanging with other minds, 
or in an analogous way communing with itself, has 
to do with form — with form alone. 

§ 46. But form as medium between interchanging 
minds, has two sides or aspects, as idea is both 
imparted and also received. Form is either form 
communicating, impressing — -forma formaiis ; or form 
communicated, impressed — -forma formata. 

§ 47. In the same way, the imagination, whose 
sole function is that of form, is either (i) passive or 
receptive of form — capacity of form ; or (2) active 
or communicative of from-faculty of form. We have 
thus what is called the active imagination and the 
passive imagination. 

But inasmuch as the term sensibility from its 
etymology rather points to the passive side, and the 
term imagination, on the contrary, to the active side, 
it is fitting as it is convenient every way, to employ 
the former term rather to denote the capacity of 
the mind as receiving, and the latter term to denote 
the corresponding faculty of the mind as imparting. 

§ 48. The two most generic departments of the 
phenomena of the sensibility are, accordingly, the 
sensibility proper or the capacity of feeling, and the 
imagination or the faculty of imiDressing. 



54 THE SENSIBILITY. 

The states of the sensibihty generally are denom- 
inated feelings. The products of the imagination 
are called /(?r;;zi-. 

§ 49. The sensibility is modified in the following 
general ways : — First, in respect to object, or 
source ; secondly, in respect to purity or simplici- 
ty ; thirdly, in respect to the intelligence and the 
will ; fourthly, in respect to degree. These modifi- 
cations give rise to so many different classes of feel- 
ings. 

§ 50. In respect to object or source, the feelings 
are distinguished into two classes : 

1. Those which flow from the general life of the 
soul, and attend the exercises of its functions 
without particular reference to the object, and 
which may be denoted by the general terms of 
pleasure and pain ; and 

2. Those which are determined by some spe- 
cific object awakening or producing them. Of this 
second class there are two species, as the objects 
are material or purely mental, — sensations and emo- 
tions. 

§ 51. In respect to purity or simplicity, the 
feelings are either simple or complex. The feelings 
already named, those of pleasure and pain, as also 
the sensations and the emotions, are, properly, pure 
and simple, although entering into other feelings 
and variously modifying them. 

The complex feelings are of two classes, (i) 
those which simply flow out towards their objects 
and expend themselves on these objects, denomina- 
ted the affections ; and (2) those which reach after 



ITS NATURE AND ITS MODIFICATIONS. 55 

their objects to grasp and appropriate them to the 
mind's own uses, denominated the desires. 

§ 52. Still fm'ther, the feelings enter into all 
the mind's acts of knowing and willing, and are in 
their turn variously characterized by them. Inso- 
far as ^hey are so characterized, the feelings are 
called sentiments. They are either conte}ftpla- 
/2V^, as characterized by the intelligence; ox p7'ac- 
tical, as characterized by the will. 

§ 53. In respect to degree, the feelings are 
modified in indefinite ways, as they vary in intensi- 
ty from the calmness that borders on apathy or 
insensibility to the wild passion which characterizes 
the brute or the madman. 

§ 54. In accordance with this general analysis 
the phenomena of the sensibility will be presented 
in distinct chapters in the following order, viz. : 

The feelings of Pleasure and of Pain ; 

The Sensations ; 

The Emotions ; 

The Affections ; 

The Desires ; 

The Sentiments ; 

The Passions. 



56 THE SENSIBILITY. 



CHAPTER 11. 

PLEASURE AND PAIN. 

§ 55. Pleasure and its opposite, Pain, 
Pleasure and are the simplest and in a certain sense 

Pain, 

the most fundamental and pervasive feel- 
ings of the soul. They cannot be analyzed nor be 
defined except indirectly, as by synonymous words, 
by indicating the occasions on which they are expe- 
rienced, or through their causes or effects. The best 
of these definitions, all alike inadequate, is that 
which represents them to be the mind's experience 
of good and evil. 

The term pleasure — and an analogous observation 
is to be made of the ttrm pain — is here used in its 
larger and higher sense as including all experience of 
good, all happiness, all blessedness, all enjoyment, of 
whatever kind or degree and from whatever source 
it m.ay arise. 

The entire lawful activity of the soul, we may 
safely assume, was designed by its Creator to be 
attended by pleasure ; and the entire influence of 
beings and things around it was equally designed to 
bring pleasure. The universe was designed, in other 
words, for good. But evil exists ; why and how, it 
does not belong to us here to inquire. Pleasure and 
pain are consequently both experienced by man. 
They each at different times attend the working of 



PLEASURE AND PAIN. 5/ 

the soul's own activities ; they each attend the im- 
pression made by otlier agencies on it. 

§ ^6. They are both, accordino-ly, distin- 

Distinguishable ^ . ^ ^ ^ ^ i i r / 

from mental guishablc m our thought irom the action 
which the soul puts forth and from the 
impression which the soul receives. Only as they 
enter into such exerted action or such received im- 
pression do they enter into the proper substance of 
the soul to form a part of its permanent active and 
passive being. The soul does not carry them along 
in itself except as it carries their causes or sources, 
or as they modify in some way its conscious activity. 
The pleasure which I experience from eating an 
orange, and the pain I experience from the prick of 
a needle, do not live on in the soul an ever present 
pleasure and pain, as does every proper act and 
every proper impression on its passive nature. The 
memory lives on so far as the pleasure and the pain 
may have come up into the consciousness; the sensi- 
bility bears on with itself the mark of the impression 
made upon it. But the pleasure and. the pain them- 
selves have after a time vanished and never reappear, 
except with the reappearance -of the cause or the 
source. The imagination brings back or re-creates 
the act and the impression, and presents its product 
as colored by the attendant pleasure or pain, but it 
has no power to reproduce the pleasure or the pain 
itself. 

§ 57. Pleasure and pain vary through 
^_ egrees mten- ^|j degrees of intensity, from the faint- 
est flush of satisfaction to the bright- 
ness of ecstatic joy and from the thinnest cloud of 

3* 



58 THE SENSIBILITY. 

discontent to the stormiest violence of grief and 
agony. 

§ 58. They intermingle with all the 
mentS stated ^ experiences and energies of the mind, 
penetrating every other affection, in- 
vesting every movement of the intelligence, and 
animating or disheartening every activity of the free 
will. 

Sometimes they become prominent and give 
character to the state of the soul as the leading 
phenomenon at the time : sometimes, they are lost 
from the distinct view of consciousness, however 
much they may yet imperceptibly influence the 
mind and its action. 

They are sometimes momentary and transient, as 
when a single throb of delight or a single shooting 
of pain or sorrow is experienced. They sometimes are 
continuous and lasting, become habitualand mark 
the permanent character. Thus there are often to 
be observed moods of gayety and gladness, and also 
moods of depression and heaviness. 

Like all acts and states of mind, as ideas or forms 
of mental experience, they become objects to the intel- 
ligence, when regarded as having certain attributes^ 
for instance as being faint or acute, or as related to 
their causes or to other objects. They become 
objects to the sensibility itself as forms for its own 
contemplation and for affecting other modes of 
feeling, modifying them in various ways. They 
become objects also to the free-will as they are 
allowed or curbed and checked, or resisted and re- 
pressed. 



PLEASURE AND PAIN. 59 

,^ ,.^ , , , § 59- Pleasure and pain, still further, 

Modified by rela- o -^ ^ _ . . 

tion of the men- are variouslv modified accordino^ as the 

tal act. 

exercise of the mind's activity on which 
they attend is connected or not with other activities 
as objects. 

In the first place, there is a natural pleasure 
attending the simple employment of our mental- 
powers and capacities. 

There is a pleasure in feeling, in knowing, in 
endeavoring. These functions were implanted in 
us in perfect goodness and wisdom ; their legitimate 
working is the form of the Creator's goodness and 
wisdom, impressing us as capable of receiving good 
and enjoying it. This kind of pleasure underlies all 
other feelings and pervades them all. It does not 
often, in its lighter degrees at least, come up into 
distinct consciousness. 

The less intense but more permanent and constant 
form of this pleasure is exemplified in the general 
cheerfulness of spirit which attends our active life ; 
as the opposite feeling is instanced in the enntii of 
inaction. It is also exemplified in the bright serenity 
and contentedness that wait on the sound and healthy 
action of the divers bodily functions ; and its opposite 
in the sadness and heaviness which continued ill- 
health naturally occasions. 

It rises with increased activity. Vivid impressions 
moving the sensibility to an unwonted warmth and 
glow, vigorous thought, and energetic resolve, carry 
this kind of pleasure to the degree of rapture and 
ecstatic delight. In like manner, the physical func- 
tions may play their part so vigorously as to occa- 



6o THE SENSIBILITY. 

sion great buoyancy of spirits and gleef ulness, while 
obstructions to their proper exercise induce heaviness 
and gloom. 

§ 60. In the next place, this pleasure 
By relations to ^j ^ waits ou the leo'itimate exercise 

other functions. ^ 

of the mind's activity in any specific 
way is enhanced and characterized when this specific 
activity is in harmony with the proper play of the 
other functions of the mind. 

Thinking is more pleasurable when the sense 
which introduces the objects of thought is pleasantly 
and properly engaged and when the purposes and 
dispositions of the free-will are furthered and strength- 
ened by the thought. On the other hand thinking is 
less pleasurable, and may be actually painful when 
thought is pushed on with an offended sense and 
an opposed unwillingness or indifference. In the 
same way the pleasures of sense are enhanced when 
the curiosity of the intelligence is fed and the pur- 
poses of the will are furthered ; and the action of 
the will gives likewise higher pleasure when it moves 
in pleased feeling and in clear light. 

§ 61. In the third place, this pleasure 

body!'''°''' '" '''' naturally belonging to the mind's activity 

is enhanced or impaired by its moving in 

harmony or in disharmony with the bodily functions. 

A sound and active mind finds its proper pleasure 
and satisfaction furthered or hindered according as 
the bodily health is sound and vigorous or other- 
wise. Still more, any species of mental activity that 
properly engages any function of the body or works 
itself out through it, is helped on to a higher pleas- 



PLEASURE AND PAIN. 6 1 

ure when the action finds free and harmonious 
expression through the bodily organ. Vigorous think- 
ing through a brain that is pervaded with diseased 
or partially paralyzed nerves is so far made hard, 
wearisome, or painful. If on the other hand, such 
thinking puts the brain and the whole sympathizing- 
nervous organism into legitimate play, the natural 
pleasure of the exertion is greatly increased by this 
harmony between the mind and its physical organs. 
§ 62. Still further, this pleasure of 
Sier ob^ecL!'' normal activity is modified as it is in 
harmony or disharmony with the action 
of other beings and the flow of providential events. 

Just so far as these influences that come in upon 
the mind fromj without, or that are encountered by the 
mind as it puts forth its activity, oppose and obstruct 
its actions, its proper pleasure is marred. 

Thus we find the ordinance of the Creator to be 
ever peremptory in requiring of us, as we desire hap- 
piness, first, a full activity of all our powers ; secondly, 
a full harmony between all the several functions of 
our spiritual being ; thirdly, a free reciprocity and 
concord between our mental exercises and our bodily 
functions and conditions ; and, fourthly, a harmoniz- 
ing of all our actions with the flow of God's prov- 
idence about us. 



62 THE SENSIBILITY. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE SENSATIONS. 

§ 63. A SENSATION is ail affection of 
Sensation de- ^^^ sensibility by or through the bodily 

organism. 
From the mysterious union of the human spirit 
with a material frame-work, there comes to it divers 
impressions which are readily distinguishable from 
all other feelings. There are pleasures and there 
are pains which come into our souls through our 
bodies, — which are, properly and characteristically, 
physical and corporeal. These pleasures and pains 
are variously modified ; so that we not only dis- 
tinguish them generally from other feelings, but 
also distinguish varieties among them that differ 
in kind from one another. The feeling that arises 
from the laceration of a nerve differs from that 
which springs from hearing a harsh and discordant 
sound not only in degree, but also in kind. 

§ 64. Ail sensation although having 
in^the mind its scat in the mysterious union of mind 

v/ith its bodily covering, is yet to be 
referred to the mind alone. 

The body is affected, it is true, in all sensation; 
but it is not the body that feels. It is not the eye 
or the ear that feels the light or the sound in the 
sensations of sight and hearing, not the nerves that 



THE SENSATIONS. 63 

as matter convey the light and sound to and through 
these organs, not the brain in which these nerves 
finally terminate, and, so to speak, deliver what 
they have received ; it is the mind, the soul itself 
only, that feels in sensation. Matter has no sense ; 
not even organized matter has any sense in any 
proper meaning of that term. 

§ 65. The medium of sensation in the 
sensation. humau body is seated in the nervous 

organism, embracing the nerves proper, 
the spinal marrow, the brain, and the other collec- 
tions of nervous matter, placed in various parts of 
the body. This system of nervous organization is 
collectively called the scjisorimn or sensory. 

It is through this nervous organism or sensory 
that the mind receives and imparts whatever is 
received or imparted by it in its communications 
with external beings or objects. Whether the con- 
tact of mind with matter is limited to a point or is 
extended over more or less of the sensory, whether, 
indeed, it is not absurd to speak of any localizing 
of the spirit, are questions which lie in darkness too 
profound for science at its jDresent stage to deter- 
mine. 

§ 66. The nerves are of two classes : 

Two classes , . . . , ■. 

of nerves. (i) Sensitive nerves; (2) ^notor nerves. 

The sensitive nerves, called also afferent 
nerves, receive and transmit to the mind ; the motor 
nerves, called also efferent nerves, impart from 
the mind. Through the former, the passive nature 
of the mind is affected ; through the latter, its 
active nature goes forth to impress other beings or 



64 THE SENSIBILITY. 

objects. Accordingly the motor nerves are not im- 
mediately acted upon by external objects. In order 
to move them, the external object must first irritate a 
sensitive nerve, which conveys the impression to the 
mind, and then from the mind or at least from the 
mind's more immediate organ, the brain, goes forth 
the force which excites the motor nerves. This is, 
at all events, the general law. It is thought, how- 
ever, by some physiologists that the motor nerves 
and the sensitive nerves when in juxtaposition may 
reciprocally influence each other. Moreover, if a 
galvanic current be made to pass along the nervous 
fibre in the outward direction from any point even 
for the slightest distance, the muscles to which the 
nerve is attached are at once contracted. No such 
muscular contraction arises if the current be trans- 
mitted in the reverse direction from without inward. 
However the mind may be remotely affected by 
these reciprocal influences of one part of the bodily 
system upon another, these influences and their 
effects are in themselves merely physiological, and 
call for our consideration only as they either come 
finally to impress the mind and awaken feeling in it 
or are themselves first originated by it. 

§ 6j. It is a most noticeable fact that 

Same sensation , ^ . , r • ,1 

from whatever to wliatcvcr part 01 a givcu ucrvc the 
impressed.'' ''^''''' stimulaut is applied,— to its extremity 
where it terminates in the muscle, or to 
its root in the brain, or to any intermediate point, — 
the sensation felt by the mind is the same. 

Thus is explained the fact that a blow or a pres- 
sure on the eye, even when the eyelids are closed or 



THE SENSATIONS. 65 

in perfect darkness, occasions the sensations of 
sight, and the mind sees forms and colors that ex- 
actly resemble those produced by visible objects 
from without. In the same way chemical irritants, 
as narcotics, the circulation of impure blood, various 
diseases, as fever and hysterics, and also heat and 
electricity, have been observed to affect the nerves 
within the body and cause them to transmit the 
same sensations as if the nerves had received the 
impressions on the surface of the external organ. 
Sensations of heat and cold, and itching and creep- 
ing sensations really produced from within, as from 
the stomach or other internal organ, often seem to 
the mind to be on the surface of the body. The 
mind itself acting on the motor muscles seems, in 
some morbid or highly exalted states of the sensibil- 
ity, to be able to impress the sensitive nerves and 
so to bring to itself sights and sounds exactly 
answering to those afforded by external objects. 
Apparitions In the light of this remarkable fact we 
accounted for. ^^^ enabled to accouut for many of the 
phenomena of apparitions and mysterious sounds 
where there can be no room for supposing any 
deception or imposture. The sensations felt in the 
mind in those cases are real ; for the nerves are in 
the state in which external forms and sounds are 
experienced, and sensation is only the mind's state 
as affected by a state of a nerve or some part of the 
nervous organism. The mind actually feels that 
affection of the nerve ; the sensation is therefore 
real. But instead of an external object impressing 
the nerve, it is the action of the mind itself or the 

5 . 



66 THE SENSIBILITY. 

internal force that has affected the nerve ; yet this 
affection, so far as the mind is concerned, is pre- 
cisely similar to that which would have been pro- 
duced by an external object. There is, it should be 
observed here, a remarkable power of habit which 
is often operative in these phenomena. This phe- 
nomenon is instanced in the case of an old snuff- 
taker. He had been seized with epilepsy. In order 
to restore him, his nose was tickled with a feather. 
The right thumb and fore finger were immediately 
contracted as if to take a pinch of snuff. 

§ 6S. The sensations may more con- 
Four classes • ^i i ■ i i i r 
of sensations, vcniently DC Considered under lour 

general classes. 

1. The sensation of simple bodily pleasitre and 
pain ; 

2. The sensations that may be referred to the 
general state of the body as a living system — those 
of the general vital sense ; 

3. The sensations referable to certain general 
systems of organs, of which the most important are 
those of the muscles and of the skin — the sensa- 
tions of the muscular and the cuticular sense — those 
of the organic se?ise ; 

4. The sensations of special organs or those of 
special sense. 

§ 69. I. There is a pleasure attending 
Uy pleasure and tlic legitimate usc by the mind of the 
pam. body as its organ both in receiving and 

imparting. 

There is a pleasure in seeing, in hearing, even 
when the objects themselves are offensive and the 



THE SENSATIONS. 6/ 

sounds are discordant ; — a pleasure which may over- 
come the displeasure from the sense of the objects 
themselves, or may only suffice to modify and lessen 
'that displeasure. There is pain when this use of its 
organ by the mind is impeded. This fundamental 
pleasure, attending on the legitimate use of the 
body, and this fundamental pain attending on its 
abuse or impeded use, pervade all the other more 
specific sensations, and enhance or otherwise mod- 
ify them. 

To this class belong those sensations which 
spring from within — from the condition of the body 
itself irrespectively of any outward cause or influ- 
ence ; such as the sense of health and physical 
soundness ; those incident to youth and to age ; 
those of languor . and heaviness ; those attending 
disease or injury of any kind to the body. 

It is to be remarked that the sensation, es- 
pecially the sensation of pain, becomes more or 
less intense according as the mind yields itself in 
its general activity more or less to the affection of 
the sensory. A pain, thus, which if the mind is 
strongly^ drawn off in another direction remains 
unnoticed, becomes almost intolerable if the mind 
is surrendered to the affection. The soldier in the 
excitement of battle remains unconscious even of 
severe wounds till after the struggle is over. An 
oppressive pain in the head is sometimes lost sight 
of in vigorous study, or other earnest endeavor. 
It is in this fact that we find the principal basis of 
culture for the physical sensibility. It is not so 
much that the nerves themselves become more 



68 THE SENSIBILITY. 

sensitive ; indeed, they may become from use more 
dull of impression. But the mind learns how to 
receive to itself more fully the affection of the 
sensory. The blind man thus learns to receive - 
more perfectly the sensations of touch, and to inter- 
pret them more easily and more accurately, because 
of the training of his mind in relation to this sense, 
rather than by any increase in the impressibility of 
the sense itself. 

§ 70. 2. The sensations of the second 
seiSe.^^^^ ^'^^''^ class, thosc of the general vital sense, em- 
brace the sensations produced by the 
atmosphere or other surroundings of the body, such 
as the feelings of heat and cold, of exhilaration or 
of depression arising from the state of the air, and 
the like. 

These sensations differ from the preceding class 
in being referable to external causes or influences. 
They differ from the two following classes in this, 
that they are not referable to any particular part of 
the bodily system. 

§ 71. 3. The sensations of the third 
L?se'^^ °'S'"^' class, those of the general , organic 

sense, are such as are referable to some 
affection from without of one or other of the organic 
systems in the bodily structure. They are such 
as affections of the surface by some foreign body 
as in titillation ; those of heat and cold from con- 
tact of external objects or felt nearness to them 
and generally what may be called affections of the 
cuticular sense; those of hardness and softness ; of 
weight and pressure ; of resistance, and generally 



THE SENSATIONS. 69 

the affections of what has been called the muscular 
sense. 

§ 72. 4. The sensations of the fourth 
sense, ^^^^^^^ class, thosc of Special sense, embrace 

those to which a special organism is 
appropriated in the bodily economy. Of these 
special organisms there are five in number to be 
recognized, viz. : those of Touch, Taste, Smell, 
Hearing, and Sight. 

^73. I. The sense of touch has its 
Touck'''^ "^ seat in the extremity of the nerves 

terminating in the skin, particularly 
at the tips of the fingers, or the tongue and the 
lips. 

At these points the sensory papil/cs — the elevations 
of the surface of the skin in which the nervous 
fibres terminate — are most numerous. It is only by 
the greater number of nerves terminating at these 
points, and consequently the greater sensibility of 
these parts, that the special sense of touch can be 
distinguished from the general organic sense residing 
in the skin ; and some physiologists have therefore 
not without some reason identified the sense of touch 
as a part of this general organic sense. The relative 
acuteness of the sensibility to external objects in 
different parts of the body has been determined by 
ascertaining the smallest distance of separation at 
which the points of a pair of dividers could be distinct- 
ly felt. It is found that at the point of the tongue 
this distance is about half a line or one twenty-fourth 
part of an inch ; at the end of the third finger, one 
line ; on the lips, two Ihies ; end of the nose, three 



70 THE SENSIBILITY. 

lines ; the cheek, the palm of the hand, and end of 
great toe, five lines ; the knee and back of the foot, 
eighteen lines ; middle of the back, of the arm, and 
of the thigh, thirty lines,. 

If the touch as a special sense be distinguished 
from the general organic sense, it can be impressed 
by matter only through its mechanical and special 
properties. It can be excited only by actual 
contact of the external body with the tactual 
organ. The general organic sense, on the other 
hand, is excited by heat radiated from remote 
bodies. 

The touch is the earliest of the special senses to 
be excited. It is closely connected with the organic, 
as the muscular and ciiticular senses, on the one side, 
and with the special sense of the taste on the other. 
Its sensations mingle with the other sensations so 
freely and so thoroughly that it is often difficult to 
determine to which the mental affection is most to be 
attributed. This mental affection is thus modified in 
indefinite modes and degrees. 

§ 74. II. The sense of taste has its 
Of t^s*^- seat in the tongue and in the soft palate 

with the adjacent parts. 
These parts are covered with papillcB in which the 
gustatory nerves terminate. The sense is excited 
by actual contact with the organ of the external 
object in a liquid or gaseous form and near the 
temperature of the body. It is in close connection 
with the organic senses, and with the special senses 
of touch and smell. It is affected only by the 
chemical properties of bodies. 



THE SENSATIONS. 7I 

§ 75. III. The sense of smell has its 
Of Smell. gg^^ • j^ ^l^g inner and upper part of the 

nose. It is excited by odoriferous parti- 
cles of extreme minuteness that are borne to the 
organ by currents of air, or as some suppose by 
vibrations of odoriferous ether in analogy to the 
sensations of sight from luminiferous ether. 

If the breath is drawn through the mouth, there is 
no sense of smell. Its sensibihty is weakened or 
destroyed if the inner lining of the nose is too dry 
or too humid, as is familiarly experienced in colds. 
Its affections, except when extremely vivid, do not 
engage the mind unless its attention is turned 
towards them. They are easily overpowered by the 
other sensations and in other mental operations. They 
seldom engross our thoughts. The sense varies greatly 
in susceptibility in different persons ; the cases of 
its being entirely wanting are not infrequent. Some 
persons are extremely sensitive to certain odors to 
which others are indifferent. Some odors are agree- 
able to some persons, which are offensive to others. 
It is closely associated with the special senses of 
taste and of touch and also with the general organic 
sense. It is excited only by the chemical properties 
of bodies. 

Of Hearing § 7^- ^^ ' ^hc scusc of hearing has the 
ear for its special organ. 

It is ordinarily excited simply by the mechanical 
effect of waves of air put in motion through some 
elastic or sounding body. These waves are first 
received in the external expansion of the ear, and are 
from that transmitted by a marvelous complicated 



72 THE SENSIBILITY. 

apparatus to the auditory nerve. If the waves of 
sound strike upon the ear at unequal intervals only 
a noise is heard ; if the waves are equal and move at 
equal intervals, the sensation of musical sound is 
produced. 

As the seat of sensation is in the auditory nerve, 
which lies deep within the head, any agitation of the 
extended apparatus for hearing is subject to divers 
affections within the outward ear which may occa- 
sion shocks to the nerve and thus give the sensation 
of sound. Thus is explained the familiar fact that 
both noises and ringing sounds are frequently heard 
when there is no external sounding body to produce 
them, but only some muscular disturbances arising 
from within — from disease, from local inflamma- 
tions, from narcotics or the like. The circulation 
of the blood thus often 'occasions sensations of 
rumbling or roaring when the nerves are morbidly 
tender and irritable. The same electric shock, in- 
deed, transmitted through the body has been known 
to give at the same time sensations of sound, of light, 
of smell, of taste, and of touch. In this case the 
nerve itself seems to be immediately acted on by the 
electric fluid. 

The sense of hearing seems more isolated than 
the three preceding senses. It is excited, if we 
except electric action upon it, and perhaps mental 
irritation through the motor nerves or disease in 
the auditory nerve itself, only by mechanical impulse. 

§ 77. The sense of sio"ht has for its 
Of Sight. ^ ^ ' ^ 

special organ, the eye. 
The impressions of the visible body, or, more 



THE SENSATIONS. 73 

scientifically speaking, the undulations of light from 
the body, are transmitted through the oiiter parts 
of the eye to the retina or expansion of the optic 
nerve, and then through it to the brain. An ex- 
citement of this nerve in any part of it may occa- 
sion the sensations of sight. Accordingly, so called 
spectral illusions may be caused by blows, by dis- 
eased condition of the humors of the eye, by ner- 
vous irritants, by electric excitement, and also by 
purely mental agitation reaching the optic nerve 
through the nerves of motion. It is supposable 
therefore that there may be true vision even when 
the outer eye is destroyed, or the retina paralyzed, 
provided that the optic nerve at any point is sound 
and can be reached in any way by any irritant as 
the electric fluid or the motor nerves acted upon 
by the mind. 

The sense of sight, like that of hearing, is more 
isolated than the three other senses. It is excited, 
if we except affections from within the organ and 
from mechanical violence, only by the undulations 
of light. It is subject consequently so far to the 
physical laws of light, as, for example, those which 
govern its velocity, direction, intensity, decomposi- 
tion, and the like. 

4 



74 THE SENSIBILITY. 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE EMOTIONS. 



Emotion 
defined. 



§ y8. An Emotion is an affection of 
the sensibility immediately by an idea, 
that is, by some form of mental activity. 
An emotion differs, accordingly, from a sensation 
in this, that the latter is a feeling excited by the 
bodily organism, — the soul being impressed by the 
idea mediately through the material body ; — 
while the former is directly excited by purely men- 
tal or spiritual acts or states, — the soul being imme- 
diately impressed by the idea. 

It ever respects immediately the form of the idea, 
not its essence nor its end or result. Thus when 
it is the truth of the idea, the idea as true, which 
addresses the sensibility, the impression on the 
sensibility, or the feeling awakened is logically 
before the actual apprehension of the truth by the 
intelligence, as something to be known. It may 
indeed be contemplated for a longer or shorter time, 
before the intelligence comes to recognize it, to 
accept it as true, to know it. It is simply the truth 
as form to be impressed on the mind that the 
sensibility is concerned with. The emotion may 
indeed continue after the truth is accepted as true 
and is perfectly known i but the emotion itself is a 



THE EMOTIONS. 75 

feeling, not a knowing state of the mind, and pre- 
cedes the knowing as its ground or condition. 

The emotion may be awakened by an idea 
originated by one's own mind or presented by 
another mind. The idea in the former case has 
been called subject-object, to distinguish it from 
the idea in the latter case which has been called 
object-object. 

§ 79. We have recognized three gen- 
Three classes eral classes of ideas, the true, the beau- 

01 emotion. 

tiful, the good. There are accordingly 
three general classes of emotions : — 

1. The emotion awakened by the idea as true 
impressing the sensibility ; 

2. The emotion awakened by the idea as beauti- 
ful ; and 

3. The emotion awakened by the idea as good. 

The emotion, it should be observed, is ever per- 
vaded and accordingly characterized, more or less, 
by the fundamental pleasure which attends all legiti- 
mate micntal action. Where the idea that awakens 
the sensibility is subject-object, there are really two 
combined sources of this pleasure, which, conse- 
quently, other things being equal, is so much en- 
hanced. 

§ 80. In analogy with the designation 
Their name. bodUy scjisc, 3. phrase derived from the 

source of the impression on the sensibil- 
ity, the three classes of emotions may be respectively 
called the Intellectiial Sense, as the intellect is the 
source of the idea as true ; the y^sthetic Sense, as 
the aesthetic relation is the source of the beautiful : 



76 THE SENSIBILITY. 

and the Moi^al Sense, as the moral nature is the 
source of the good. 

The emotions of each class are variously modified. 

§ 8i. The emotion of the true or the 

Intellectual intellectual sense, is awakened by sim- 

sense. -^ 

pie truth. 

There is a native aptness in the mind to be im- 
pressed by truth. 

The impression- may be lost in the knowing act that 
follows and be unnoticed ; but it is still real ; and 
often the feeling of truth is strong and permanent 
and characterizes the whole mental state. False- 
hood, on the other hand, while it impresses as bearing 
the general form of truth, yet is naturally attended 
with a feeling of disiD4easure. 

A truth originated in one's own mind, 
Emotion by -^"ndi especially if wrouo-ht out by g-reat 

ongmality. ^ -^ _ ^ . 

exertion and with much difficulty, im- 
presses the sensibility with a peculiar force. 
When the mode of weighing King Hiero's crown 
flashed upon the mind of Archimedes, he leaped 
from his bath in an ecstasy of joy at the discovery. 

The emotion, moreover, is more or less 
By interest. complete and perfect, according as the 

truth itself is more or less closely re- 
lated to th^ mind, more or less coincides with its 
tastes, or its interests. 

The emotion varies too with the char- 
By object, acter of the truth or object. 

If it be new, the emotion takes the par- 
Surprise. ticular form of Surprise. 

If it be new or strange and also imper- 



THE EMOTIONS. "]"] 

The ludicrous. ^^^^' ^^^^ ^^' ^^ there be striking incon- 
gruity in its parts or elements, the emo- 
tion is that known as the emotion of the ludicrous. 
When the Irish gentleman gravely remarks on the 
unhappy condition of childlessness, that he has ob- 
served it frequently to be hereditary, the incongrui- 
ty of the attribute of Jiereditary with that of child- 
lessness^ excites our laughter. A like occasion of the 
feeling was furnished when a judge" of the King's 
Bench remarked in a will case that ' it was very 
clear that the testator intended to keep a life in- 
terest in the estate to himself.' 

As an idea is a form of mental activity, if 
Wit. it bears the character of a quick and vig- 

orous mind, the emotion which it aw^akens 
becomes more vivid. The feeling is strong thus when 
awakened by quick wit, as in repartee. As when once 
a grave and eloquent lawyer, in an important argu- 
ment, had observed in emphatic terms, " you cannot 
split hairs in such a question," and paused for a mo- 
ment, looking sternly and triumphantly down upon 
his opponent who sat before him playing with a pen- 
knife, and when the latter, not at all disconcerted, in- 
stantly pulled a hair from his bristly head and held 
it up fairly split, to the great amusement of the court 
and jury, the quick wit of the advocate turned the 
tide as he added : " I said a hair, sir, not a bristle." 
§ 82. The aesthetic sense is awakened 
Esthetic sense, by the form of an idea. This form when 
most perfect is none other than beauty ; 
beauty is perfect form. Whatever is beautiful moves 
us by a power of its own. There is a native aptitude 



78 THE SENSIBILITY. 

in the mind to be impressed, and if the 
Power of beauty, mind is in sound condition, and free to 
be impressed, and the idea that impresses 
it is itself perfect in its form so as suitably and freely 
to impress, the emotion caused by the impression 
is attended with that fundamental pleasure which 
waits on all legitimate action. 

As in the case of the intellectual sense, the emo- 
tion is variously modified by the object which im- 
presses it, and is characterized by that. The emo- 
tion of the beautiful varies accordingly 
Emotion varies with the nature of the form which 

vilth th- form. 

awakens it. It varies as the several 
elements of beauty or of form vary ; as the idea, 
the matter in which it is revealed, or the rendering 
of the idea in the matter varies. It varies with the 
relative predominance of either of these elements. 
Thus we have ^/le sublime when the idea predomi- 
nates over the matter ; the proper beaiitifitl, when 
the idea and the matter are just commensurate with 
each other ; and the pretty and tJie comic, when the 
matter outmeasures the idea. 

An instance of that species of the sub- 
The sublime, lime in which the grandeur of the concep- 
tion is expressed in the simplest speech 
is that so often cited from the time of the Greek 
critic, Longinus, from Genesis : " and God said, let 
there be light, and there was light." The few sim- 
ple words reveal a power which transcends all 
thought as well as all expression, and which, as the 
contemplation strives to reach and to grasp it, only 
becomes the more grand and incomprehensible. 



THE EMOTIONS, 79 

This is the sublime of simple greatness. The sub- 
lime of intensity is illustrated in the few quiet words 
in which Shakespeare makes Brutus intimate the 
unutterable, inconceivable grief and sorrow that 
the death ol Portia was giving him : " No man 
bears sorrow better ; Portia is dead." There is no 
limit to the imaginable depth and intensity of an- 
guish here intimated. The longer and closer it is 
imj^ressed on the sensibility the more is the imagi- 
nation stirred and elevated. The sublime in nature 
is exemplified in vastness of extent, as in the ocean, 
whose bounds the imagination strives in vain to 
compass, or in the starry heavens shutting in within 
its limitless expanse countless worlds and systems 
of suns ; and in vastness of power as in the fury of 
a storm, the crash of the thunderbolt, or the throes 
of a volcano. The sublime ever exalts, expands, 
lifts the finite soul, as it were, from its footing and 
throws it from its balance ; it accordingly agitates 
and disturbs the soul in contemplating. 

The beautiful, on the other hand, ever 
The praper tranquillizes and harmonizes. The idea 

beautifuL 

here is in just equipoise with the mat- 
ter in which it is revealed, and the contemplation 
sympathizes and is itself quiet and at peace. The 
ocean is sublime, especially if lashed to a furious 
display of its power by a tempest ; the placid lake 
is beautiful, as all forces are in equilibrium. The 
sky is sublime when it reveals to us the infinite 
extent of creation and the power that made and 
that upholds and rules it ; it is beautiful as its 
perfect order is regarded, and all the ideas of the 



86 THE SENSIBILITY. 

creative mind appear wrought out in perfect 
harmony. 

The comic, in which the idea is over- 
The comic. powcrcd or outspauncd by the outward 

form or matter in which it is revealed, 
in which this outward form arrests the attention to 
the repression of the idea, neither awes hke the 
subhme, nor simply tranquillizes and leaves in per- 
fect satisfaction like the beautiful. Its proper 
tendency is to agitate, but the agitation is the sur- 
face-ripple, not the deep-rolling billow ; it culmi- 
nates in "laughter holding both its sides," as its 
The pretty. natural expression. The pretty is the 

comic bordeiing close on the beautiful ; 
the idea is in defeirt, while the outward form 
satisfies. We distinguish thus a pretty face, a 
pretty figure, from one that is beautiful, as in the 
latter idea character is a leading element ; in the 
former it is wanting. Where the comic borders on 
the sublime, we have the effect expressed in con- 
vulsive laughter. 

The intellectually ludicrous is distinguished from 
the assthetically ludicrous by this ; — that while 
they both address the sensibility, the former con- 
sists in a disharmcny between the elements of the 
idea, as' in absurdities or surprises of thought; 
while the latter consists in a disharmony between 
the essence and the form of an idea, or between 
the elements of the f ( rm itseT. Thus a coxcomb 
is assthetically ludicrous as he puts on an exterior 
which there is no character within to warrant. So 
all pomposity, strut, pretension, is ridiculous. The 



THE EMOTIONS. 8 1 

clown, the buffoon, the harlequin, is aesthetically 
ludicrous as his dress, his words, his acts, have some 
show of reason but come short of it ; and the 
unreason predominates. The humorist, the wag, 
the punster, are intellectually ludicrous ; the sallies 
and the coruscations of their wit give the pleasure; 
the pedant, the mannerist, the prig, as also affecta- 
tion, foppery, airs, amuse us from their lack of 
sense or of capacity as compared with the outward 
appearance which they assume or affect. The 
proper comic — the itnrenson — may exist alike in 
the sallies of the witty and in the blunders of the 
stupid. The stronger effect of the former, is attrib- 
utable to the mental activity which has originated 
them. 

§ 83. The moral sense is awakened by 
The moral ^hc o'ood or its oppositc in their several 

sense. . . -^ '■ 

varieties. The moral sense thus re- 
spects an idea or form of mental activity in relation 
to its end or aim. As there are three different 

views which we may take of an action 
endofaV^^ SO far as it is moral, each necessarily 
action. implying the other, — the aim or inten- 

tion, the end intended, and the movement of the 
aim towards the intended end, — the moral sense is 
awakened indifferently by either ; we are equally 
and similarly stirred by an action whether we 
regard the love that prompted it, the happy result 
which it accomplishes, or the rectitude of the 
action itself by which the love secures the good. 
The emotion, it is true, is in some respects modified 
in the several cases. But it is in its more essential 
4* 6 



82 THE SENSIBILITY. 

character the same. The good action calls forth 
our approval, our commendation, our complacency, 
whether we regard its motive, its result, or its 
proper character as right. 

In the same way, the action morally bad alike 
calls forth our disapproval, our condemnation, our 
displeasure, whether we regard more prominently 
the hatred that prompted it, the harm which it 
produced, or the unrighteousness in which it was 
practiced. 

The moral sense is similarly affected whether 
the action which impresses it, is our own or an- 
other's ; but the remorse which we suffer from the 
sense of our own wrong-doing, is generally with 
imperfect men, affected by their own selfish dis- 
positions ; it is less easily awakened, and yet when 
awakened, is more poignant and bitter than the 
indignation which is provoked by the wrong-doing 
of others. 

The moral sense, the sense of right or of good- 
ness, is, like the sense of truth and the sense of 
beauty, a necessary part of every rational nature- 
Like them, too, it ever answers truly to the object, 
right or wrong action, good or bad conduct, benefi- 
cence or injury. It lies at the foundation of all 
morality, as the sense of truth at the foundation of 
all knowledge, and the sense of beauty at the foun- 
dation of all art ; without it, morality must neces- 
sarily be a matter of indifference. It may be 
blunted, like the sense of sight, by disuse. It may 
be, like the bodily senses, more acute and quick in 
some than in others. It is susceptible, like them, of 



THE EMOTIONS. 83 

culture ; especially may the sensibility be trained 
to interpret more readily and accurately the character 
of the object, and thus become more quick to detect 
and feel the good and the wrong that falls in its way. 
It may be in particular cases more or less predomi- 
nant, or more or less subject to other mental occupa- 
tion ; be seemingly lost in such occupation, or be 
aided and enhanced by it. Habit, taste, interest, may 
hinder or further its presence in the soul. But it is 
ever there, a present element, ever capable of being 
roused whenever its object, right or wrong, is be- 
fore it, ever alike true in its respt)nse to it. The 
moral indifference or insensibility of a man, or of a 
community to a wrong, if it be not regarded merely 
in relative degree, is to be ascribed to the predomina- 
ting occupancy of the mind by other pursuits, other 
passions, other interests, w^hich prevents the immedi- 
ate presentation of the wrong to the moral sense, 
rather than to the entire want of moral sensibility or 
to the fallaciousness of the sense itself. If a man, 
with organs complete, does not see, or if seeing, riiis- 
takes black for white, it is not because the sense of 
sight is wanting or because the sense distorts the 
image of the object, but because his mind is other- 
wise absorbed or because he confounds wdiat he 
sees with other impressions, and so himself mis- 
takes a true vision. That this may be, can be 
easily supposed if we compare the different impres- 
sions made on two different persons of perhaps like 
temperament and habit, who may be looking out 
from a rocky shore, watching the sails that are toss- 
ing out on the ocean when raging madly in a tern- 



84 THE SENSIBILITY. 

pest ; one free to admire the awful sublimity of 
the scene and resigning his whole soul to the im- 
pressions of his aesthetic sense, while the other 
is burdened and oppressed by anxiety for the 
safety of some precious one whose fate is at the 
mercy of the merciless elements. Every succeed- 
ing moment intensifies the rising rapture of the one, 
and equally the swelling anguish of the other. The 
same scene moves each alike ; the same sensitive 
nature belongs to each ; but the object impresses a 
nerve of pleasure in the one, a nerve of agony in 
the other. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE AFFECTIONS. 

§ 84. The affections are feelings 
Affections which 2fo out and expend themselves on 

defined. . 

their objects. 
The classes of feelings hitherto described are 
properly subjective. The first class, simple pleas- 
ure and pain, are purely so ; they do not directly 
even suggest any exterior object, inasmuch as they 
are the imm.ediate attendants on the mind's own 
acts and states. The sensations and emotions only 
imply and presuppose their objects, and do not ac- 
tually look out upon them. We are enabled by them 
alone to distinguish ourselves as subjects of impres- 
sion from the objects which impress us, but only as 
passively affected by them, not as acting towards 
them. Much more than bare impHcation of objects is 
attributable to the affections ; they are turned direct- 
ly towards their objects; they fasten immediately on 
them, and in a true sense go out to them, and lose 
themselves in them. 

The radical principle or element in the 
Founded in affcctions is that constitution of the 

sympathy. 

mind by which it, of its own nature, sym- 
thizes with all surrounding objects that are akin to 
itself — to its nature, its habits, its tastes, its pur- 
suits, its interests. It is the principle of kind — 



86 THE SENSIBILITY. 

kindliness — attesting the common fatherhood of our- 
selves and of all objects with which we have to do. 
Its opposite is antipathy, which feeling is awakened 
by objects that do not at the time appear in this re- 
lationship of being objects akin to our natures or 
dispositions. 

§ 85. The affections are generically 
Classed. classcd as love and /laU ; love being a 

synonym of sympathy, and hate of an- 
tipathy. 

It is to be remarked that as the affections tend 
to pass out into the purposes and endeavors, love 
and hate very commonly denote actual benevolence 
and malevolence — practical benefiting and harming. 
They are, however, properly and primitively, affec- 
tions ; and, in so far as they are affections, the soul 
is predominantly passive in them, the activity in- 
volved in the "exercise of them being rather sim- 
ply that of the will in holding the soul to their ob- 
jects to be fully impressed by them through that 
sovereign control which the will possesses over all 
the functions of the mind. 

§ S6. As habitual dispositions the affec- 
Varieties. tious are kuown by such names as coin- 

plaisance, kind-heartedness, charitable- 
ness, good-natnre ; or ill-natnre, 7LncJiaritableness^ 
iLnfriendliness, niisantJiropy, and the like, making 
divers modifications. 

§ 8j. The affections are variously mod- 
Characterized ifig^ ^Iso bv the character of their ob- 

by object. ^ -' 

jects. We have thus love of kindred, 
love of friends, love of country, love of God, love of 



THE AFFECTIONS. 8/ 

animals also, and of inanimate objects, as likewise 
of places, influences, principles, forms, pursuits. 

§ 88. There is, moreover, a class of the 
Resentments, affcctious wliich are properly responsive 

in their character. They are called by 
the generic name of resentments. 

To this class belong such affections as gratitude, 
that responds to kindness from others ; anger, re- 
sponsive to unkindness ; forgiveness, responsive to 
reparation of unkindness, and the contrary disposi- 
tion of inexorableness, relentlessness. Remorse, when 
it passes to self-reproach, and so to speak, self-hate, 
if anything more than the pain that naturally waits 
on conscious ill-doin2:, is to be classed amons; the 
resentments, as it is responsive to the feeling of 
guilt ; so also is its opposite, self-approval, or self- 
complacency, which in its several modifications in 
degree becomes self-conceit, vanity, pride, or humil- 
ity, modesty, and the like. 



88 THE SENSIBILITY. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE DESIRES. 

§ 8y. The desires are feelings which 
Desires ^ot Only go out towards their objects but 

also reach after them to grasp and ap- 
propriate them. 

We may love without desire ; as love may rest 
upon a present object while desire regards an object 
that is not present or in possession. Desire implies 
a want. It is seated in the propensity which neces- 
sarily belongs to all life to reach its proper end. 
An active nature seeks to act, feels impelled to act 
by a want in its very nature. The desires are all 
propensities springing from wants or founded in 
them. 

§ 90. Desires are instinctive, normal, 
Classified, healthy ; or are acquired, irregular, mor- 
bid. 
It is possible to acquire desires that do not prop- 
erly belong to our nature. We observe, thus, for 
example, desires for certain articles of food or 
drink for which there is no natural taste or inclina- 
tion, as for tobacco, for alcoholic drinks, for many 
artificially prepared dishes. It is so throughout the 
entire realm of the desires. Such acquired desires 
may have the strength and permanence of a natural 
appetite, conforming the whole mind and body to 



THE DESIRES. 89 

them ; they may even become hereditary and be 
propagated. 

Desires are irregular either in degree, becoming 
immoderate and excessive, or in respect to their ob- 
jects, being turned on tliat which is unworthy or 
that which belongs to another. The natural de- 
sire for ease and security, thus, must often be 
stifled when other dearer interests of the soul are 
in jeopardy. 

Desires, still further, sometimes spring out of 
morbid conditions of the mind or body, and have 
the strength and importunity of natural instincts. 

§ 91. The desires distribute themselves 
^erSon."^ at oncc into the two great classes of 

desires to be in possession of their 
objects, and desires to be free from them. This 
latter class are termed aversions, 

§ 92. The desires and aversions, fur- 
Sub-divisions. thcr, may be subdivided into as many 

different varieties as there are different 
capabilities to be recognized in the soul. 

In the first rank is to be enumerated the 
Self-love. fundamental desire which belongs to every 
living nature, that its own being be con- 
tinued ; that it be maintained in the highest perfec- 
tion, and bring in the most and highest good. This 
is self-love, the irregular form of which is selfish- 
ness. 

As every desire directly and necessarily respects 
a good as its immediate object, and as whatever is 
good must so far be desirable, life and well-being 
are natural and legitimate objects of desire. The 



90 THE SENSIBILITY. 

soul revolts from the thought of ceasing to be — 
from the thought of annihilation. It is one of the 
strongest and most deeply-seated desires of a 
healthy soul that its existence be continued. What 
will not a man give in exchange for his life ? The 
desire for immortality is accordingly a native, and 
hence a worthy principle in man. 

This fundamental desire for continued existence 
carries with it the desire that that existence should 
be as complete and perfect as is possible ; that all 
the capabilities and functions of the soul be in most 
perfect condition, and that the comprehensive good 
designed by the Creator in giving and fashioning 
life be secured in the highest possible degree. 

This general desire for life, and for a perfected life 
in well-being, comprehends desires for the perfec- 
tion and well-being of each particular capability. 
We have thus the divers classes of desires belonging 
to these divers powers and functions and capacities 
for good. 

§ 93- We have, in the first place, the 
Appetites. dcsircs belonging to the physical consti- 
tution, more commonly known as the 
appetites. 

This class of desires respect the continuance and 
well-being of the individual animal life, as those for 
food, and for drink — hunger and thirst; the desire, 
also, for muscular exertion and for rest and sleep. 
The appetites are all subject to periods. They 
legitimately arise when the bodily welfare bids 
When gratified they cease their craving and dis- 
appear till the health and well-being of the body re- 



THE AFFECTIONS. - 9I 

awaken them. The social nature of man is so con- 
nected with these animal desires, that they are best 
gratified only in society and companionship. The 
taking of food thus tends among all classes of men 
to become social. There is also to be enumerated 
here as a proper social desire, that for wedlock, 
which seeks the continued existence not of the indi- 
vidual, but of the race. 

§ 94. We have, in the next place, the 
Rational desires, proper rational desires, which are seated 

in the soul itself, and which seek the 
continuance and perfection of its several capabilities 
and functions. 

Of the rational desires is to be enumerated, 
Of freedom. First, the desire of freedom. The attribute 

of free personality is the characteristic 
attribute of man, distinguishing him from the 
beast. The desire of freedom, in the most compre- 
hensive sense of the word, so far as is allowed in the 
relations of mian, is one of the strongest and most 
unquenchable principles of the human soul. That it 
is thus in its very nature of such strength, only indi- 
cates the necessity of fostering and also of guiding it. 
It may become irregular ; it may become morbid ; 
it is capable of driving to the worst excesses. Hence 
the necessity for guarding and regulating it. 

Secondly, tJie desire of power is 
Of power. involved in the general desire for the 

perfected well-being of the soul. Power 
inheres in its very being as essentially an active 
nature ; and as it is subject to growth, the increase 
of power is a natural desire. Ambition is thus a 



92 THE SENSIBILITY. 

normal and legitimate principle. It only needs to 
be regulated both in respect of degree and of its 
objects. 

Emulation is a modification of the desire of power. 
It is the desire of power and of its increase 
relatively to others. It is a natural modification of 
ambition arising in social conditions. Right and 
proper in itself, therefore, it only requires to be 
moderated and guided both as to degree and object. 

The desire of power carries with itself the desire 
of the means or the conditions of effectually exert- 
ing power — the desire of possessions, of wealth. This 
desire, when inordinate or misdirected, becomes 
covetoicsness, when it seeks, inordinately. Wealth for 
use as means or condition — seeks in excess more 
money in order either to have more or to spend 
more freely — or avarice, when the inordinate desire 
is only to acquire and hoard, so that, if a ruling pas- 
sion, it makes a man a miser. 

The desire of knowledge is another de- 
of knowledge, siic. Seeking the perfection of the soul 
in respect to its intelligent nature. 
This desire becomes idle curiosity when it seeks not 
permanent growth of the mind, but rests satisfied only 
with the momentary gratification of the instinct for 
improvement belonging to the mind as a living nature. 
In this case, as is true of the other desires, when it 
disregards the end for which the desire was irn- 
planted, and cares only for the pleasure which, is 
given by the Creator only to stimulate the propen- 
sity, it is diverted from its true design and be- 
comes a wrong and an evil. 



THE AFFECTIONS. 93 

§ 95. Besides this large class of ration- 
Social desJres. al desires which are properly individual 
and personal, there is also the other 
class of rational desires, the social desires. 

Highest among these is the generic desire of 
society, embracing divers modifications, such as the 
desire of kindred, of friends, of neighbors ; the de- 
sire of social life in the family, the church, the 
State, in associations generally. 

They are but the social affections, taking to 
themselves the peculiar characteristic of desires, 
grasping after their objects to appropriate them. 

Subordinate modifications of the social desires, 
are the desires of approbation, of esteem, of ap- 
plause, and the like, varying in respect to degree 
or to the mode by which others may be brought 
into agreeable or profitable relations to ourselves. 

§ 96. Once more, the several desires 
Hopes and fears, may be Combined with the expectation 
that they shall attain their objects. 
Hence we have those most important classes of de- 
sires, hopes and fears. 

Hope ever seeks a good, or a means of ., ., with 
expectation and desire of attaining it ; while fear 
respects an evil or the occasion of evil, with ex- 
pectation of its approach, but with desire to escape 
it. 

Their objects are as diverse and as numerous as 
are the khids of good to man that are possible or 
imaginable. They vary also indefinitely in respect 
of degree. 



94 '^^'1^ SENSllULITV. 



Sentimonts. 



CHArT^:R VII. 

T II E S K N T I M E NTS. 

§ 97. The Sentiments are fceling-s 

which are characterized either by intelU- 

gence or endeavor. 

The mind is single with a plurahty of 
Described. fnnctions. It is the same mind that 

feels, that thinks, that wills ; and in pnt- 
ting forth either one of these functions, never en- 
tirely ceases from the others. Consequently, every 
mental state has somewhat of feeling, somewhat of 
intelligence, somewhat of volition or endeavor. It 
is so with the bod}'. The body puts forth simulta- 
neously the various functions of animal life. It 
breathes, it circulates its blood, it digests, it secretes, 
it receives and transmits sensations. No one of 
these vital functions need be suspended while the 
others are in exercise. But the mind is not to be 
conceived of as having its functions localized and 
separate in any such way or degree as the body. 
All that can be properly meant when the states of 
the mind are distributed into the several depart- 
ments of feeling, intelligence, and will, is that these 
states are more prominently characterized at one 
time by one of these functions, at another, by 
another. When we say that a man, at a certain time, 
was in a passion, all we mean, is, that at that 



THE SENTIMENTS. 95 

time, feeling predominated over intelligence and 
will, so that these latter functions, although by no 
means actively suspended, were overpowered and 
overshadowed by feeling. 

These several states accordingly shade into 
each other, with indefinitely varying degrees of 
predominance of one function or another. It is, 
consequently, often difficult to say which predomi- 
nates and gives character to the mental state. 

Language hence does not accurately discrimi- 
nate. We use the same term sometimes to denote 
a feeling, sometimes an act of intelligence, some- 
times an act of will. The word taste thus is prop- 
erly used to denote the simple feeling of beauty. It is 
also as correctly used to denote a judgment, a quick, 
accurate discernment in matters of art. It is still 
further used to denote an active governing disposi- 
tion and pursuit. The word love^ too, denotes a 
mere affection and also a determination of the will, 

§ 98. The sentiments divide them- 
Two Classes, sclvcs into the two general classes: i. 

The contemplative se^itiments which 
unite feeling with intelligence : 2. The practical 
sentiments which unite feeling and will, as the joint 
characteristics of the mental state. 

§ 99. The contemplative sentijuents 

The Contem- . ^ . ^ ^ 

piative Senti- are rccognizcd m language but to a very 
™^" ^' limited degree. The following will 

illustrate the general nature of this class of feelings. 
Wonder is a sentiment which differs from the 
feeling of surprise in this, that it directly suggests 
an activity of the intelligence. 



96 THE SENSIBILITY. 

Esteem is a sentiment that with an affection for 
its basis, yet draws into it so as to give it character, 
a judgment. 

Vanity denotes a sentiment with the feeling 
more prominent : self-conceit makes the judgment 
relatively more prominent. 

Taste^ as the term is frequently used, denotes a 
sentiment uniting a sensibility to beauty with 
accurate discernment of the elements of beauty. 

§ TOO. The practical sentiments, which 
SitimTnt's^^^ may also be denominated moral senti- 
ments, are more numerously recognized 
in language. Exemplifications are to be found in 
all the departments of feeling and voluntary action. 
They are found both as simple transient states of 
mind, and also as lasting dispositions. 

They spring up into exercise as well from impres- 
sion on the sensibility as from determination of the 
will. The disposition of generosity, thus, may be 
called forth by an object of suffering need to which 
the purpose of the will at once responds and the 
whole soul is characterized by a feeling, willing act ; 
or the settled purpose to do good may call forth the 
kindly feeling with which the act of kindness and 
good will is invested and made more acceptable and 
beneficent. 

The two elements of f eelins: and willing: combine, 
so to speak, in all proportions ; — feeling sometimes 
greatly predominant, and sometimes the determining 
and purposing energy, and sometimes again, the two 
b^ing in equiponderance. 

The words used in language to denote these sen- 



THE SENTIMENTS. 97 

timents point to them sometimes as mere feelings, 
sometimes as acts of will. The term/zVj/ thus may 
be used to denote mere feeling — compassion — or it 
may be used to denote an act, ministering relief to 
want. 

The explanation of all this is, that feeling and 
willing are functions of one and the same mind, and 
in these cases the two have such a natural connec- 
tion and intimacy that each draws on the other. 
The will awakens and sustains the feeling ; the 
feeling prompts and sustains the will. They act 
and react upon each other. 

It may be added here that the intelligence just as 
freely enters into these states so that, were it of 
any practical utility, we might have a third class of 
sentiments in which, while feeling predominates and 
gives character to the mental state, the intelligence 
and the will are as truly concerned in it. The sen- 
timents of trust ?ind faith are thus seated in the in- 
telligence — in the apprehension and acceptance of 
the true — in belief. They often at least imply a 
conforming will ; and so while feeling may predom- 
inate and give character to them so that we rightly 
call them sentiments, the whole soul as feeling, 
knowing, willing, is concerned in them. 

' § loi. The practical sentiments are 

Four classes of 

Practical Senti- most Conveniently distributed into 
classes in reference to their respective 
objects, as the Personal sentiments which respect 
one's self ; the Social, which respect our fellow 
men ; the Patriotic, which respect our country ; 
and t\iQ Religious, which respect God. 

7 



98 



THE SENSIBILITY. 



Of the personal sentiments may be en- 
Personal, numerated those of modesty, /minility, 

and their opposites, pride, anvgance ; 
teinperance, abstinence, asceticism ; caution, presump- 
tion ; candor, prejudice ; zeal, heroism. 

Of the Social Sentiments may be men- 
Sociai. tioned probity, integrity, tprightness, 

fairness, equity, justice, fidelity ; courtesy, urbanity, 
politeness ; bounty, philanthropy, humanity, generos- 
ity, goodness; clemency, forgiveness, le^iiency, mercy, 
pity, compassion, condolence ; homage, respect, dis- 
dain, scorn. 

The generic Patriotic Sentiment is 
Patriotic. patriotism. 

Of the ReHgious Sentiments are rever- 
Reiigious. eiice, veneration, piety, godliness. 



THE PASSIONS. 99 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE PASSIONS. 

§ 102. The Passions are feelings in 
The passions, high degrees of excitement. 

They are either transient excitements 
or permanent dispositions. 

They are conceived of under divers forms of im- 
agery. Thus under tlie imagery of heat they are 
denominated glozv. fianie^ m^dor^ fervoi^, fever ; 
under that of force, vehemence, agitation^ pertitrba- 
tion^ turbulence. 

They belong to all the classes of feelings which 
have been described. Thus, of Pleasure and Pain 
there are the passions of raptttre, ecstasy, transport, 
anguish, woe ; of sensations, those of volitptuoii.s- 
ness, ghUtony, sottishness ; of emotions, mirth, 
astonishment ; of affections, rancor, fervcity, tru- 
culence ; of desires, hankering, greediness, terror, 
horror ; of sentiments, squeamishness, dilettantism^ 
vandalism, scrupulosity, punctiliousness, prudery, 
libertinism, abjectness, effrontery, brutishness, fiend- 
ishness, pietism, sanctimoniousness, sacrilegiousness. 



100 THE SENSIBILITY. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE IMAGINATION. 

§ 103. The Imagination is the faculty 

ThelmaginaW^f f^^^^_ 

We have recognized the sensibiUty 
Faculty of Form, in the larger sense, § 48, as the 

mind's function of receiving and com- 
municating ideas, but in a narrower sense as limited 
to one part of this two-fold function — that of receiv- 
ing idea. The other part of this function — that of 
communicating idea — is called the imagination. 
As the sensibility in this narrower sense is the 
capacity of Form, imagination is the faculty of 
Form. 

§ 104. This mental function is known 
ynonyms. under scveral different names, which 

designate different forms of its activity. The 
Greek language has furnished the name phantasy, 
contracted into the more familiar English word, 
fancy. This latter term use has made to point to 
more novel, or more playful exercises of the imag- 
ination. The Latin language has furnished the 



THE IMAGINATION. lOI 

word iinagiiiatio7t, etymologically signifying the 
imaging power or act. Inasmuch as the imagina- 
tion constructs all its forms out of materials 
presented to it, the term representation has been ex- 
tensively used to denote this power of the mind to 
represent to other minds, or to one's own, what has 
been presented to it. It is also called the idealiz- 
i7ig power or function of the mind, and its products 
are accordingly called ideals. In this case, as also 
in the others, the name has been more or less re- 
stricted in use to some specific exercise of the gen- 
eral function. It should be added also, in respect 
to all these terms, that the use is loose and vague, 
and consequently more or less discordant. 

§ 105. Of its proper nature and province 
Explained. it will uot be difficult to form a satis- 
factory notion. If an orange be brought 
to the sensibility through the nerves of sensation 
— suppose those of sight — the sensibility as pass- 
ive is simply impressed ; the mind has a feeling of 
the object, which may be characterized as attend- 
ed with pleasure. But the sensibility belongs to 
an active nature, and the mind in its active re- 
sponse to the impression, forms an idea of the ob- 
ject. The orange is now held by the mind in the 
form of an idea of its own, for such purposes and 
uses as it may determine — for contemplation, or 
for thinking, or for choosing and taking. It is, as 
an idea of the mind's own, in the mind no longer 
a mere impression, but an impression taken up 
by the mind's active nature and passed over and 
changed into an idea. It can be contemplated in 



102 THE SENSIBILITY. 

respect to its form, as beautiful in its roundness, in 
its brio-ht and mellow hue. It mav be studied in 
thought and recognized as an object with certain 
attributes. It mav be chosen and the choice 2:0 

■J o 

forth in endeavor to grasp and appropriate it. It 
may be set forth to others in language. The 
whole attitude of the mind towards it has changed 
from the mere sensuous passive impression. Then 
it received ; now it puts forth. Then something 
came to it ; now something is ready to go forth 
from it. 

Not necessarily is the idea imagined identical in 
all its features with the idea received. The inter- 
pretation by the mind of the impression on the ner- 
vous organism may not be exactly conformed to the 
impression. Much less is the idea imagined neces- 
sarily identical with the object, the orange itself. 
The senses may have reported incorrectly through 
disease, through mingling with impressions from 
other objects, through the mind's own influence on 
the nervous organism. Still further, the mind 
shapes its idea of the orange not solely under the 
influence and control of the impression on the sen- 
sibility, but under the conjoined influence of all its 
own divers affections and dispositions at the time. 
Its idea of the orange may thus in many respects 
differ from the primitive object. The mind takes 
up the impression on the sense into its own activ- 
ity, and then shapes it by its own states at the 
time — images or idealizes the object in them, 
through them, and by them. Often it becomes 
necessary for us to retrace our first impressions 



THE IMAGINATION. IO3 

in order to correct or perfect our idea of the outward 
object. 

The Creator's idea of the orange, that is, 
Ideals. the true idea of the orange, is accord- 

ingly in our minds more or less modi- 
fied. It is some^Yhat differently shaped or formed. 
The image of it we have made varies in some re- 
spect from the original, and, in fact, from the im- 
pression on our nervous organization, for we have 
shaped it under the controlling influence of our ex- 
isting mental disposition. The same orange is 
differently imaged in our minds according as we are 
occupied with other things or are entirely free to 
form a right and complete idea of it ; according as 
we are sick or in pain, or well and in sound health ; 
according as we are already prejudiced or are candid 
and unbiased. In short, the idea of the orano^e we 
shape into new form. The idea becomes by our 
mental action an ideal — something like the idea, 
yet somewhat different. 

If we now examine this ideal we at once discover 
three elements that have entered into it. In the 
first place, there is the idea itself more or less per- 
fectly impressed on our nervous organism and taken 
up through this impression more or less perfectly 
into our own minds. In the next place, there is 
our own mental state in which this idea is foraied; 
in which it is incorporated, and which has thus be- 
come a kind of body to it. In the third place, there 
is our own mental activity which has taken up the 
idea and incorporated it in this body. 

Such is the true nature of an ideal, as carefully 



104 THE SENSIBILITY. 

distinguished from an idea, in its most abstract and 
shadowy form, and in the last analysis. This is the 
first work of the imagination ; it forms, it creates 
an ideal. This ideal ma}^ be of any outward sensi- 
ble object, as an orange, or of any spiritual object ; 
of any material or mental thing, and also of any 
attribute of such a thing or of any relation of it ; 
of whatever, in short, may be apprehended or ex- 
perienced by the mind. 

This primitive ideal, the first work of the im- 
aginative faculty, is, howeve^i", susceptible of being 
still further shaped and formed. The imagination 
by the instincts of its own active nature is prompted 
to proceed to shape this ideal in its sensuous or- 
ganism, or in its own interior thought, or in both. 
We have accordingly two kinds of these secondary 
ideals or images or forms. We have thus the follow- 
ing definitions and classifications : 

§ 1 06. An ideal is a product of the im- 
Defined. agination. It consists of three elements. 

— idea imagined, matter or body in 
which it is imaged, and the act of the imagination 
itself embodying the idea in the matter. 

§ 107. Ideals are primitive or secondary. 

Primitiye ideals. A PRIMITIVE IDEAL is the first pro- 
duct of the imagination, embodying the 

idea in the mind's own furniture of thous^ht or feel- 

ing or purpose. 

A SECONDARY IDEAL is ideal shaped in 

Secondary ideal, some iicw matter or body. 

§ 108. Secondary ideals are of two 

Sense ideals. kiuds : I. Thosc which are shaped in 



THE IMAGINATION. IO5 

the sensuous organism — sense — ideals. 

2. Those which are shaped in the pro- 
Spiritual ideals, per Spiritual or mental matter or body — 

spiritual ideals. 
It should never be forgotten in the study of men- 
tal phenomena that these phenomena belong to the 
same one, indivisible mind, which never perhaps 
surrenders its whole activity to a single one of its 
divers functions, but whose acts and states are ever 
more or less complicated. When we therefore 
speak of the mind as having a sensation, as of sight, 
of cold, of fatigue, we do not mean that it may have 
not other sensations, other feelings, perceptions, 
judgments, purposes and endeavors at- the same 
time. We only mean that the mental state is 
characterized at that time by the sensation as an 
actual, perhaps, predominant element of its state. 
Thus simultaneously with the sensation, with the 
sight of the orange, the mind may desire it, may 
perceive it, may recognize it as round and as sweet, 
may purpose to take it, may put forth endeavors 
for it. But in order to mark all the divers features 
of this complex mental phenomenon of the imagin- 
ation, and to understand it as one whole, we must 
note separately (i) the sensation or the impression 
on the bodily organism ; (2) the primary ideal which 
the mind by its own native activity forms from that 
impression ; and (3) the secondary ideal which it 
forms in its own furniture of feeling, thinking, will- 
ing, which secondary ideal it perceives and judges 
and chooses as the mental image of the object, and 
also impresses on the brain with its nervous ap- 



106 THE SENSIBILITY. 

paratus in its endeavor to take the object. All 
these elements enter into the phenomenon and con- 
stitute it what it is. They are essential to it, so 
that we cannot conceive its possibility if any one 
element were taken from it. 

Of the primary ideal, it may be said here, that 
while it is to be discriminated, on the one hand, 
both from the affection of the sensuous organism, 
as widely as a mental act from a bodily state, and 
also from the idea conveyed in that affection, and, 
on the other hand, from the mental activities that 
are grounded upon it, such as thought and purpose, 
and must be enumerated in any complete analysis 
of mental phenomena, it does not seem to require 
of us any further statements in respect to its char- 
acter and relations than those already given. As 
to its elements, it possesses the three that enter into 
every product of the imagination — idea, matter, im- 
agining act. As to its relations, it is the primary 
mental act from which all other mental activities 
spring and on which they all rest. It is variously 
modified of course by the character of the impres- 
sion which originates it ; by the character of the 
mental furniture in which it is formed ; and more- 
over by the vigor of the imagining act itself. 



THE IMAGINATION, IDEALS. lO/ 



CHAPTER X. 

THE IMAGINATION SENSE-IDEALS. 

§ 109. Sense— Ideals are products of 
Definition. the imagination sliaped in the bodily 
organism. 

We have recognized a twofold structure in the 
nervous organism — one for receiving, the other for 
putting forth ideas ; a twofold system of nerves, — 
one afferent, otherwise called sensory nerves, bring- 
ing to the mind ; the other efferent, otherwise 
called motor nerves, carrying from the mind. 

The imagination uses this second system — the 
efferent or motor system — for its instrumentality, 
as the sensibility in the narrower sense uses the 
first, — the afferent or sensory system. 

The mode of connection between the mind and 
the material system of the brain and nerves is 
wholly wrapped in mystery ; and we are utterly un- 
able to explain either how the brain carries ideas to 
the mind, or how the mind conveys outward its ideas 
through the brain. The keenest anatomy cannot 
discern the point of this connection. No science, 
indeed, can tell whether the connection is at a single 
point or over an extended portion of the organism. 



I08 THE SENSIBILITY 

It is accordingly entirely inexplicable how it is that 
one state of the mind, one ideal, should be followed 
by a motion of the hand, and another by that of the 
tongue or lips. All that we know is the simple fact, 
that we think, we imagine, we form ideals, and 
instantly the nervous organism repeats the act, 
and this or that nerve, this or that nervous centre, 
this or that part of the brain, responds. We know 
that excessive mental action, particularly excessive 
exertion of the imaginatio,n, by putting the brain, or 
some part or other of it, into movement, induces 
weariness, and, perhaps, disease, and ultimately 
death ; and that injury to the body — to the nerves, 
to the brain — reacts upon the mind and disturbs or 
even diseases its action. This mental action, at 
first affecting the brain proper, may ultimately 
reach even the portion of the nervous system not 
directly connected with the brain, the ganglions or 
nervous centres from which nerves go out into the 
respiratory, the circulatory, the digestive systems of 
organs. A mere recollection, for instance, of some 
tragic scene, of some danger encountered, of some 
wrong done, sometimes suspends the breath, quick- 
ens the pulse, moves a sigh or a sob, disturbs all the 
alimentary functions. 

§ no. The affections of the sensuous 
Modifications, o^g^^^igi^^ ]^y ^j-^g scnse-idcals vary indef- 
initely in kind or character, and also in degree. 

They vary with the kind or character of the ideal 
itself. An ideal of a visible object, as of an orange, 
affects the brain and its nervous retinue differently 
from an idea of a sound ; an ideal of a picture differ- 



THE IMAGINATION SENSE-IDEALS. lOQ 

ently from that of an action. Different parts of the 
brain, different nerves are brouglit into exercise in 
the different cases. 

They vary with the condition of the body and 
particularly of the nervous organism. A diseased 
body may make the imagination even of a generally 
agreeable object disagreeable or offensive. The 
imagination of dainty food nauseates in sea-sickness. 
We are credibly informed that a man who had been 
wrapped when sick at sea in a cloak, could not wear 
it afterwards on land without the return of the 
nausea with which it had been associated. 

They vary iti degree with the energy of the im- 
agining act, and also with the susceptibility of the 
organism. A vivid imagination may quicken the 
blood, suffuse the cheek, brighten the eye, fill with 
animation the whole frame ; while a dull imagina- 
tion, even when framing an ideal of the same ob- 
ject, may not sensibly stir a fibre of the boily. A 
susceptible organism, too, moves quick and strong 
from an ideal that would scarcely stir a dull and 
gross sense. 

Physiologists generally agree in the opinion that 
all mental action is attended by some change in 
some part of the brain-system — the cerebrum, 
the assigned seat of higher mental or proper rational 
action ; the cerebelhtm, the supposed seat of muscu- 
lar exertion ; or the sensoruim, the seat of the 
special senses, which has only afferent and no ef- 
ferent nerves. Three different opinions are held in 
regard to this relationship of mind and body. One 
is, that all kinds of so-called mental action are 



no THE SENSIBILITY. 

caused by the organic changes in the brain or nerve 
system — a pure materiaUstic dogma. A second is, 
that the brain-change is a necessary condition of any 
mental act, but that the mind is a distinct, separate 
agent from the bodily organism, the chief, if not 
only characteristic of which is will or power of voli- 
tion or self-determination. A third is, that the mind 
is, after at least the first awakening of its activity by 
a sensible change, a self-active power, capable of 
originating action while yet its action is ever at- 
tended bv a change in the brain. This opinion, it 
would seem, is the only one compatible with the rec- 
ognition that mind and matter are distinct entities, 
and that mind is essentially active while matter is 
essentially passive. In the mysterious union of 
mind and matter in man we find that a change in 
either of the constituents is ever attended by a cor- 
responding change in the other. 

§ III. Sense-ideals may be accompa- 
HglSand'wifi^ied or not by conscious intelligence 
and exertions of the will. 
There may be no reason to doubt that every 
mental state, every ijct of the imagination, every 
ideal has its proper influence on the brain. But it 
is certain that often the intelligence fails to take 
any account of these impressions. All unconsciously, 
the feet, the fingers, the eyeballs, move in mere con- 
templation, in simply beholding a beautiful picture 
or in hearing musical sounds. Then, on the other 
hand, we often take up into thought these ideals 
and study their character, their attributes, judge of 
their accuracy, or their completeness, or their fitness. 



THE IMAGINATION SENSE-IDEALS. I I I 

In the same way these sense-ideals often move our 
bodily frames with no control, no help, no hindrance 
from the will. Then again our wills embrace these 
ideals, and we infuse into them a new energy ; we 
guide them, or we repress and hinder them. An 
idea of commendation or of deserved reproach often 
suffuses the cheek with crimson against all power of 
the will to hinder such effect ; and often the blush 
appears as unconsciously as involuntarily. 

These general statements of the reciprocal influ- 
ence of the mind and the bodily organism we will 
illustrate by some well attested facts. They will be 
presented under the several classes of Phantoms ; 
( ases of Exalted Sensibility ; and instances of Sus- 
p .nded Sensibility. 

§ 112. I. A PHANTOM is a scnsatiou, 
Phantoms dcfined.pi-Qj^ice J not by an external object, 
but by an impression from the mind — 
from the imagination — or the sensuous organism. 

Here there is a real affection of the organism, but 
the cause is not from the world exterior to the body 
but from the mind. The impression on the organ- 
ism is reported back to the mind just as if the im- 
pression were from without ; and, therefore, it ap- 
pears to the mind precisely as if an external object 
had made the impression. 

Sir David Brewster, in his letters on Natural 
Magic, narrates the case of a lady of high character 
and intelligence, whose vivid imagination so affected 
her nervous organism as to occasion frequent and 
very striking illusions. She heard unreal voices, as 
that of her husband calling her by name to come to 



112 THE SENSIBILITY. 

him, repeatedly, distinctly, and loudly. One after- 
noon, on entering the drawing-room, she saw, as 
she supposed, her husband standing before the fire 
and looking fixedly* at her. Supposing he was ab- 
sorbed in thought, she sat down within two feet of 
the figure. After two or three minutes she asked 
him why he did not speak to her. The form then 
moved off towards the window at the further end of 
the room and disappeared. The appearance was in 
bright daylight, and lasted four or five minutes. At 
another time, sitting with her husband in the draw- 
ing room, she called his attention to what she sup- 
posed to be the cat. She pointed out to him the 
place where the phantom was ; called the cat to her ; 
when trying to touch it she followed it as it seemed 
to move away from her. At another time she saw 
a favorite dog apparently moving about the room, 
while she was holding the real dog in her lap. 

A similar case, equally well authenticated, is that 
of a lady who, while seated by a table, saw the figure 
of a man enter the door opposite, and move slowly to- 
wards her, and then distinctly heard him say that 
he was come from the Spirit-world, charged with a 
message to her, which he then communicated, 
solemnly enjoining it upon her to do what was re- 
quired. The form passed slowly by her around the 
table and vanished by the window on the opposite 
side of the room. 

In these two cases, there had been disease which 
had affected the nervous sensibility. In each case 
the senses of sight and of hearing were both con- 
cerned. 



THE IMAGINATION SENSE-IDEALS. I 1 3 

Such spectral illusions are, in fact, not infrequent 
in fevers. The writer, in the approach of a febrile 
■attack, at intervals when free from delirium, imag- 
ined the phials of the medicine closet in the room 
to be men and women of the most grotesque and 
fantastic shapes and movements. They seemed as 
real as the doorway and the shelves on which the 
phials stood. His nervous system, in some part, 
was affected just as such real objects would have af- 
fected it in order so to impress the mind. 

The cases already instanced were cases of involun- 
tary imagination. The late President Hitchcock of 
Amherst College, relates his experience of similar 
illusions which, in part, and particularly at first, 
took place without any design or expectation of his, 
but in part, and subsequently, were occasioned and 
induced of express purpose. He was able, by band- 
aging his eyes and thus entirely excluding the light, 
to bring before his mental vision images of various 
kinds of objects and scenes as distinctly and as vividly 
as if realities. Having thus covered his eyes on one oc- 
casion for the purpose of experiencing these visions, 
he reported what passed before his view successively 
to one who took down the reports thus : •' The space 
around me is filled with huge rocks moving past me 
in all modes, full of caverns, but too dark to be well 
seen ; they hang over me now and look splendidly ; 
some of them appear to be serpentine. Some of 
these rocks seem a hundred feet long. Against the 
side of a wall 1 see three young ladies sitting and 
laughing ; lighted candles are before them, and 
chains, machinery, etc., 'around them. I lie in a 



114 THE SENSIBILITY. 

vast cavern ; the rocks are rolling around me like 
clouds ; they are within a foot of my face ; some 
are sandstone and some granite. I have a glimpse 
into a large city ; but a carriage-maker's yard, full 
of rubbish, almost entirely obstructs my view." 
This is but a brief extract from his account of these 
phenomena which occurred during an attack of 
fever, in which, however, there was no tendency to 
mental derangement. 

§ 113. 2. Exalted Sensibility. The 
biuf "^^ ^^^^^' sensibility sometimes exhibits extraor- 
dinary tenderness and life. This oc- 
curs most strikingly when both the bodil}^ organism 
is unusually excitable and the imagination is also 
unusually vigorous and active. Well authenticated 
facts explain to us much that might otherwise seem 
to be the effect of supernatural agency. 

The case of Jane C. Rider, of Spring- 
Exemplified, field, Mass., related by her physicians, 
is one of many, but one of remarkable 
interest. At intervals during several months, in a 
great variety of circumstances, she could, at night, 
or in a darkened room, and with her eyes close- 
ly bandaged, distinguish by her eye all ordinary 
objects presented to her. She at one time read, 
with her eyes thus bandaged, audibly and correctly, 
with some hesitation however at the most difficult 
words, nearly a whole page from a small volume 
handed her. The distinguished physicians, who 
observed and narrated the case, correctly ascribe 
the result to " the combined effect of two causes ; 
first, increased sensibility of the retina, in con- 



THE IMAGINATION — SENSE-IDEALS. II 5 

sequence of which objects were rendered visible in 
comparative darkness ; and, secondly, a high degree 
of excitement in the brain itself, enabling the 
mind to perceive even a confused image of the ob- 
ject." We must interpret " the excitement in the 
brain enabling the mind to perceive a confused 
image," here spoken of, as not in the body, but in 
the mind itself, whose imaginative function was in 
a state of exalted vigor. 

The most frequent exemplifications of this state 
of exalted sensibility occur in cases of fever and 
of delhnttm tremens. The power of the imagination 
over the nerves in this last named disease is almost 
incredibly great. Robust, stout-hearted men, even 
men who had seemed hardened and callous to every 
impression, reckless and fearless of every thing, in 
this disease see visions and hear sounds that only 
the pit of despair can know as realities, and strong 
frames sink down in the course of a few years to 
death under the horrors of an excited and uncon- 
trolled imagination. 

§ 114. 3. Suspended Sensibility. 
Ibmt'y.'^"^''"" The more normal and familiar phenom- 
ena of this class occur in ordinary sleep. 
The characteristic feature of sleep is 
Sleep. the partial suspension of the reciprocal 

action of the mind and the body on 
each other. This suspension, in healthy sleep at 
least, is never entire. As sleep comes on, one 
sense after another in quick succession becomes in- 
active. The order varies ; but the hearing and the 
touch are generally the last to sink into repose. 



Il6 . THE SENSIBILITY. 

Commonly the nerves of sensation and the nerves 
of motion cease their functions almost simultaneous- 
ly. The eyelids droop, the head sinks, the limbs 
drop to some external support, while, nearly at the 
same time, the taste, the smell, and the sight first, 
and then the hearing and the touch, suspend all 
communication between the soul and external 
things. All the vital functions, nevertheless, as 
those of respiration, circulation, nutrition, secretion, 
and absorption, go On as in wakefulness. The heart, 
however, beats slower, and the breath is less rapid, 
and in early life absorption and nutrition are more 
active. The brain collapses from the diminished 
flow of blood into it. 

Sleep is more or less profound, the suspension of 
the connection between mind and body is more or 
less complete in different persons and also in dif- 
ferent conditions, internal or external, of the same 
person. 

Facts abundantly show that one sense may be 
fully awake while others are asleep. A nurse, 
watching the sick, will wake on hearing the strik- 
ing of the clock, or on hearing the slightest call of 
the patient. Erasmus relates of his friend Opori- 
nus, a celebrated professor and printer of Basle, 
that after a wearisome journey with a bookseller, 
he undertook in the evening at the inn to read 
aloud a manuscript about which they had been 
conversing during the journey. The bookseller 
discovered after a time that Oporinus was asleep 
while he was reading. A like experience befell the 
writer who, after an exhausting journey by night 



THE IMAGINATION SENSE-IDEALS. 11/ 

and day, undertook to read to others a long doc- 
ument of much value and interest with which he 
had become familiar during his journey. He fell 
asleep, but continued reading till, after a page or 
two, the hand which held the manuscript drop- 
ped and awakened him. The sight in these cases 
remained awake, as also the motor-nerves concern- 
ed in reading, while other senses were asleep. Sir 
William Hamilton relates the case of a postman 
who daily traversed, on foot, the route between 
Halle and a town some eight miles distant. Over 
a part of the route which lay through a meadow, 
he generally slept ; but on coming to a narrow 
foot-bridge, which was to be reached by some bro- 
ken steps, he uniformly awoke. Soldiers, it has 
been often observed, wearied by a long march, 
sleep while their feet move on as when they were 
awake. 

§ 115. Dreaming is a familiar phenom- 
Dreaming. cuou of slccp. Ordinarily we include 

in the notion of a dream that of a con- 
nection between mind and body, reciprocally acting 
upon each other. But a right explanation of this 
interesting phenomenon involves the truth of the 
continued activity of the mind even in what we call 
profound and perfect sleep. The mind, as we have 

seen, is essentially active. To cease its 

Mind ever ac- ..(... , . . . . 

tive. activity, tor it, is to die, since action is 

its very life. The life of the body even 
ceases when all action in it ceases, when circula- 
tion and respiration and secretion and absorption 
cease. Certain modes of thought or feeling may 



Il8 THE SEXSIBILITV. 

be suspended ; but to conceive of all thought and 
feeling and willing as stopping, is to conceive of 
an extinct soul. There is no evidence that the 
mind wholly suspends its action in the profoundest 
sleep. That we cannot recall the thoughts we may 
have had in sleep does not prove that we did not 
think. Let one give himself to musing for a half- 
day, letting his mind rove uncontrolled in any 
direction and towards any object that ma}^ offer ; 
he will, in all probability, be unable at the close to 
recall one in a hundred of the objects that have 
flitted before his mind. The mind is active when 
it loses itself, as we say, in sleep — when it falls 
asleep ; it is active when it recovers itself to wake- 
fulness ; it certainly is sometimes active during 
sleep, as what we can^ recall of our dreams evinces ; 
who can suppose it ceases action in sound, un- 
dreaming sleep, more than in those wakeful hours, 
the flying thoughts of which wholly escape our rec- 
ollection ? We say loosely we are not conscious 
of thinking or feeling during our sleep. If we 
mean that the mind was not conscious when acting, 
this is to mistake utterly the essential attribute of 
mind which is necessarily conscious of all its own 
action. If we mean that we are not now conscious 
that we had any feeling or thought while we slept, 
then we mean only that we are unable now to rec- 
ollect^to bring into our present consciousness the 
fact that we thus thought or felt. Still further, 
there are curious facts which make this supposi- 
tion, that the mind may be active, and therefore 
consciously active, even during the profoundest 



THE IMAGIxN'ATlON SENSE-IDEALS. ITQ 

sleep, extremely probable. There are many well 
accredited facts showing that the mind not only 

acts in sleep in ways that of itself it 
Proved by facts, was Utterly unablc to recall, but also 

sometimes acts with an energy and in- 
tensity beyond wha-t it ever knows in wakeful 
hours. A mathematician, who had long labored in 
vain to solve a mathematical problem, one morn- 
ing found the solution on his table. He had risen 
in his sleep and worked out the solution, but of the 
operation he had no recollection, and the only evi- 
dence that could convince him of his dream-work 
was the paper on his table. Franklin was wont 
to find in the morning political questions that had 
tasked his wakeful hours the day before clearly 
resolved in his mind. Coleridge dreamed out his 
poem, " Kubla Khan," while asleep in his chair. 
He wrote out from recollection immediately on 
waking what appears of the poem in his works, but 
being interrupted lost the power to recall the rest, 
which he yet believed he had fully composed in his 
dream to the extent of three or four times what he 
had written. 

Similar to this experience of Coleridge is that 
related in MacMillan's Magazine in 1870, of a lady 
who had been pondering during the day on the 
many duties which " bound her to life." She 
dreamed her feelings into verse, and on awaking 
was able to recall the following stanzas : 

Then I cried with weary breath, 
Oh, be merciful, great Death ! 



I20 THE SEXSIBILITY. 

Take me to thy kinodom deep. 
Where grief is stilled in sleep. 
Where the weary hearts nnd rest. 
******* 

Oh, kind Death, it cannot be, 
That there* is no room for me 
In all thy chambers vast ; 
See strong life has bound me fast, 
Break the chains, and let me free. 

But cold Death makes no reply, 
Will not hear my bitter cry ; 
Cruel Life still holds me fast. 
Yet true death must come at last, 
Conquer Life and set me free. 

Dr. Carpenter, in his mental physiology, relates 
an occurrence which proves not only that the mind 
may be capable of more intense activity in sleep 
than in wakefulness, but also that a protracted 
mental operation of the highest character may take 
place in sleep of which no adequate recollection 
survives on waking. A man was called to compose 
a discourse for public delivery on a set occasion. 
He gave himself to the effort, and the evening be- 
fore the appointment was to be met, he had com- 
posed something, but lay down utterly disgusted 
with his performance. He fell asleep and dreamed 
of a novel method of handling his subject. \Mien 
waking he rose to commit his new thoughts to paper, 
but found to his astonishment on opening his desk, 
that they were already written out, the ink being 
hardly dry. 

Of the greatly increased activity of mind some- 
times experienced in sleep, we have, indeed, mani- 



THE IMAGINATION SENSE-IDEALS. 121 

fold illustrations. The following may be added to 
the instances already given : A person, aroused 
from sleep by some water sprinkled on his face, 
dreamed of the events of an entire life before com- 
ing to full wakefulness. There is an accredited 
record of an officer awakened by the morning gun, 
who dreamed of hearing an alarm-call to battle, of 
rising, equipping himself, going to the field, 
marshaling his men, engaging in a long and doubt- 
ful battle and of driving the enemy from the field, 
every step as orderly and as complete as if all real, 
yet dreaming through all this before the reverbera- 
tions of the gun had died away on his ear. De 
Ouincy says of his mental activity in his dreams 
that he sometimes seemed to have lived seventy or 
a hundred years in a single night, 
s-m ath- of ^^^ mind thus never in sleep entirely 
body and jnind droppins: its activitv, is more or less in 

in sleep. . '' . 

sympathetic connection with the body. 
A patient in a hospital in France, who had lost a por- 
tion of the scalp and of the skull, thereby exposing 
the movements of the brain, w^as observed in calm 
sleep to exhibit a motionless brain, but in a sleep 
disturbed by dreams to be in proportionate agita- 
tion. It would be rash to infer from the apparently 
motionless brain in calm sleep that the mind itself 
was also inactive ; but the agitation of the brain at 
times evinces- the fact of the continued interaction 
of mind and body in sleep. This motion in the 
brain occasioned by the mental action, may take 
place interiorly so as not to show itself at all an the 
surface ; it may extend throughout the entire struc- 



123 THE SENSIBILITY. 

tiire of the brain ; it may extend farther, into the 
nerves that issue from the brain, the sensory and 
all the motor nerves ; it may reach a part or the 
whole of the entire nervous organism. Dreams 
often occasion movements of hands and feet ; 
sometimes of the organ of speech. A dream of 
fright will occasion sndden convulsive bodily move- 
ments, as if to avert or escape danger. Dreams 
often occasion sighs and groans and outcries of 
alarm, or smiles and audible laughter. Some per- 
sons talk frequently in their sleep. Conversation 
can sometimes be carried on to some considerable 
length with them. The writer knew a student in 
college who acquired the art of leading his room- 
mate when asleep to translate his Greek lessons for 
hirii night after night. An English officer was led 
in his dreams by his companions, who were aware 
of his peculiarities, to go through the whole process 
of a duel, and was awakened only by the report of 
the pistol which he fired in the supposed combat. 
The bodily organism acts upon the mind during 
sleep, as does the mind upon theb:dy, in modes and 
degrees variously modified. A bright light brought 
into the room where one is sleeping, or a noise or 
a touch, there is reason to believe, often influences 
the mind and shapes the dream. Dr. Gregory hav- 
ing placed a bottle of hot water at his feet dreamed 
of going to Mount Etna and of extreme heat. In 
the same way the disturbance of the vital functions, 
or any pain in the body, often occasions distressful 
dreams. A posture of constraint in which the 
mind becomes conscious of inability to command 



THE IMAGINATION — SENSE-IDEALS. I 23 

the muscles, gives rise to incubus or night-mare. 
The mind, conscious of this inabihty to move for de- 
fense or for escape from the danger which the con- 
strained posture of the body had occasioned, suf- 
fers the extreme anguish and horror of one in real 
danger from which he sees no way of extricating 
himself. He is in the mental condition of one 
whose limbs are inextricably entangled in the burn- 
ing wreck of a railway train, and who sees the 
flames steadily and irresistibly moving upon him. 
§ 116. Besides the normal phenomena of sus- 
pended sensibility in sleep, there are the abnormal 
states of catalepsy and somnambitlism. 

In Catalepsy, the subject seems like 
Catalepsy ^"^^ ^^ quict slccp, with regular pulse 

and respiration, but beyond the reach 
of all the ordinary excitants from" sleep. Inte.ise 
flashings of light on the eyes, loud noises, pungent 
odors, punctures of the skin, shakings of the body, 
severe blows and bruises, prove of no avail to re- 
store to wakefulness. A variety of this affection is 
ecstasy, occasioned generally by religious excitement. 
In these cases the mind continues active, although 
the connection with the senses is more or less sus- 
pended. Sometimes only a part of the nerves seem 
to lose their functions, as is shown in the case of 
persons who have been supposed to have died under 
these paroxysms and have been laid out for burial, 
who yet continued conscious of all that passed and 
on recovery repeated what was said by the at- 
tendants. More frequently, however, the memory 
fails to recall what has passed during the attack. 



124 THE SENSIBILITY. 

Yet radical and permanent changes of disposition 
and character, as from dissoluteness and irreligion 
to soberness and piety, which are known to have at- 
tended these experiences, show that, although im- 
possible to be recalled, there must have been clear, 
strong thoughts, deep feelings, decided purposes. 

§ 117. Somnambulism is a form of 
Somnambulism, partially suspcuded sensibility, com- 
bined with more or less exalted sus- 
ceptibility in some of the senses, and particularly 
with a controlling activity of the intellect and will, 
reaching to the bodily functions. This is indeed 
the special characteristic feature of somnambulism, 
distinguishing it from dreaming and from catalepsy ; 
the somnambulist prominently manifests a use of 
the bodily organs for some set purpose or object. 
In dreaming, the control of will is relatively dor- 
mant ; the mind is floated along hither and thither 
without guidance of its own. In catalepsy the 
mind may exercise its reason and its will, forming 
purposes that shall be permanent and govern the 
future life, but its action does not go out into the 
bodily movements. In somnambulism this last is 
the characteristic feature. The somnambulist is 
" a dreamer who is able to act his dreams." He rises 
from his bed and walks the street, or climbs to the 
top of the house, passes quickly along dangerous 
ways, or delivers an harangue, or recites poetry, or 
works out mathematical problems, or executes works 
of art. The affection proceeds from a highly ex- 
citable nervous organization, which may be stimu- 
lated either by some mental act or by some affec- 



THE IMAGINATION SENSE-IDEALS. I25 

tion of the bodily system in ordinary health or in 
disease, or even by artificial appliances. 

Many instances of this phenomenon are on record. 
They have bee-n noted from the earliest times ; 
they were described by the ancient Greeks. As Ave 
should suppose beforehand, they are diversely modi- 
fied. The mental activity is sometimes most mar- 
vellously stimulated so as to transcend all ordinary 
experience ; sometimes it is only of the most usual 
degree ; sometimes one function of the sensibility 
is suspended while another is exalted to an extraor- 
dinary-degree, or, it may be, remains only of the 
usual energy ; sometimes the experience during the 
somnambulistic attack is remembered as in dreams ; 
sometimes it is beyond recollection while in the 
normal condition, but it may be revived again fresh 
and vivid when the attack recurs, so that the sub- 
ject seems to live two lives, remembering in the 
normal state only what has occurred in that state, 
and in the somnambulistic state only what has 
passed in that. 

Several cases will be narrated to illustrate these 
general characteristics. The Archbishop of Bour- 
deaux relates that a young ecclesiastic was in the 
habit of getting up night after night, and, while 
giving conclusive evidences of being asleep, going 
to his room, taking pen, ink, and paper, and com- 
posing sermons. When the Archbishop placed a 
piece of pasteboard between his eyes and the paper, 
he wrote on, not seeming to be incommoded in the 
least. 

Gassendi reports that a somnambulist used to 



126 THE SENSIBILITY. 

rise, and dress himself in his sleep, go down to the 
cellar and draw wine from a cask, seeming to see 
m the dark as well as in full daylight. He answered 
questions that were put to him. In the morning 
he recollected nothing of what had passed. 

Colquhoun relates that a young woman of twenty 
years of age, frequently passed from a state of prop- 
er catalepsy into that of somnambulism. She sat 
up on the bed and spoke with an unusual liveliness 
and cheerfulness, and in continuation of what she 
bad spoken in her previous fit. She would then 
sing and laugh, spring out of bed, pass round the 
room, dexterously shunning anything in her way, 
then return to her bed and sink into the cataleptic 
state. All means fried to awaken her were inef- 
fectual, such as burning a taper close before her 
eyes, pouring brandy and hartshorn into her eyes 
and mouth, blowing snuff into her nostrils, pricking 
her with needles, wrenching her fingers, touching 
the bail of her e3^e with a feather and even with 
the finger. When informed of what she had done, 
she manifested deep mortification, but never could 
recollect anything that had occurred. 

Cloquet reported to the French Academy the 
case of a lady who, having been thrown into som- 
nambulism by some artificial means, had an ulcer- 
ated cancer removed without manifesting the 
slightest sensibility. She was kept in the somnam- 
bulistic state for forty-eight hours, and so com- 
pletely that when she awoke she had no idea of the 
operation till she was informed of it. She talked 
during the attack calmly and freely about the oper- 



THE IMAGINATION SENSE-IDEALS. 12/ 

ation when it was proposed to her, notwithstanding 
she had shrunk with horror from it when awake, 
quietly prepared herself for it, conversed with the 
operator during the operation, without any motion 
of limb or feature, or any change of respiration or 
of pulse evincing that she was sensible of pain. 

In Massachusetts, some years since, a girl of four- 
teen years of age, of a nervous temperament, but 
without any extraordinary intelligence, after having 
fallen asleep in the day time, would rise from her 
chair and deliver a sermon, which she preceded 
by the usual religious services, as if to a large au- 
dience. These discourses, which far transcended 
in mental power' her wakeful ability, she would de- 
liver day after day or on alternate days, without 
repetition, however, of thought or language. 

Another interesting case of somnambulism is 
that of a young lady who became a competitor in a 
school in which prizes had been offered for the 
best paintings. As she returned in the morning to 
her work, she repeatedly observed that additions 
beyond her own skill had been made to the paint- 
ing. She charged her companions with the in- 
terference, and when they denied it she took pre- 
cautions to prevent further interference with her 
work. Her own movements were now watched, 
and she was seen to rise in sound sleep, dress her- 
self, go to her table and work on her painting. The 
prize was given to her, but she was loth to receive 
it, as she insisted that the work was not her own. 



128 THE SENS115IHTY. 



CIIArXKR XT. 

THE niAGlNATlOX SlMRiri Al. I invALS. 

v^ 1 18. SriRiruAL iPKALs are products 
Spiritual ideals, ot the imagination, shaped in the mind's 

own furniture. 
This class of ideals mav have been originallv de- 
rived from sensation, more or less ; the)' ma^' come 
to be shaped in sensuous forms. But thev mav ex- 
ist at the time independentlv of all sense connec- 
nections. It may be that in producing them the 
working of the imagination may be connected with 
movements in the structure of the brain in its most 
interior part, or in any more external portion of the 
nervous organism. It is not improbable that any 
mental activity may. from its mysterious alliance 
with the body, draw in with it also some movements 
of the bodily organization, l^ut it is clear that we 
may conceive of a purely mental act separated from 
all sensuous elements. Such a mental act as formed 
in the mind by the imagination is a spiritual ideal. 

§ 119. These ideals are all formed out 
Source. <-^f the mind's own possessions — out oi 

the stock of thoughts, feelings, and pur- 
poses which it has in itself. 



THE IMAGINATION SPIRITUAL-IDEALS. I 29 

They are not made from nothing. Their variety, 
richness, greatness, depend on the growth and the 
attainments of the individual mind. A child's ideas 
are simple, narrow, meager, compared with those of 
a mature, cultivated mind. 

Of this stock of material out of which the imag- 
ination forms its ideals it will be important to ob- 
tain a fuller and clearer understanding. If one 
were to be asked in regard to a journey he had 
made during a preceding year, he would be able to 
answer so as to convey some idea of it ; as, we will 
assume, in what month he set out; ho vv long he 
was gone ; what places he visited ; what objects 
and scenes most interested him. All these ideas of 
his journey which he thus communicates in his 
answer are the products of his imagination, which, 
entering into the stock of his recollection.s, shapes 
its ideals out of them. These ideals thus formed 
go out, as he communicates them, through the sen- 
sual organism in sounds, in words, which the in- 
quirer on receiving them garners into his stock of 
ideas or mental possessions.' This complex act of 
taking out of the stores of the mind's ideas such as 
would meet the demands of the inquiry and of 
s aping them in ideals to be then expressed in 
words, Sir William Hamilton, with a nice analysis, 
has explained as involving the exertion of a three- 
fold faculty, (i) the memory proper, the retentive or 
conservative power by which the mind retains its 
i eas ; (2) the i^eproductive "powQx by which the mind 
calls forth what was lying dormant in memory ; and 

(3) the representative power by which the mind 
6* 9 



130 THE SEXSTBILITV. 

holds up before itself the ideas which it has repro- 
duced from memory. Whatever may be thought 
of the propriety of recognizing these distinct facul- 
ties — retention, reproduction, and representation — 
as faculties of the intelligence, it is clear that we have 
this three-fold phenomenon to recognize and ex- 
plain ; hrst. we have the fact that the mind retains 
its ideas ; secondly, that out of such retained ideas 
it frequently calls forth this or that for its use ; and 
thirdly, that it shapes such recalled ideas into new 
forms for communication to others or for its own 
study. It is obvious, moreover, that the retention 
and the reproduction into present consciousness of 
ideas ai"e the two necessary conditions of represent- 
ing or imagining. We shall therefore in order con- 
sider these two conditions of ideals — menu>r\- and 
reproduction — in separate chapters, reserving for a 
distinct chapter some additional explanation of the 
imagination itself as an idealizing power. 

It remains to be observed that these 
Bodied in ideas. Spiritual idcals are not only shaped out 

of the mind's own stock of ideas, but 
are also shaped in them. 

The recollections of a journey shape themselves 
very differently at different times. If one has ob- 
served the Parthenon of Athens, and should in after 
years recall and represent his idea of it retained 
from the impressions made upon his mind at the 
time of observing, his account of it would be dif- 
ferent in some particulars, jf given the first year 
after his return, from that which he would give the 
tenth. Some details would in this latter instance 



THE IMAGINATION SPIRITUAL-IDEALS. I3I 

have slipped out of his ideal ; the others would be 
more or less differently arranged, and the several 
features would stand out in different degrees of 
prominence relatively to the others. His account, 
and consequently his ideal, moreover, would vary 
with the design or end for which he recalled it. 
To describe the Parthenon to a child, he would 
shape his ideal in one way ; to a cultivated artist, 
his description would set forth his ideal shaped in 
quite another way. But in every case his imagina- 
tion shapes its product in the mental furniture of 
the time. It is outlined in existing feelings, 
thoughts, and intentions. It is not only outlined in 
them and bounded out in and by them, it is also 
colored by them. His ideal will be at one time 
glowing with the feeling which transports him at 
the time of describing ; at another, it Avill be dull 
and dim, as his mind at the time is heavy and 
clouded. The same idea of the Parthenon thus 
wiil be embodied in the varying experiences of the 
hour and assume a form corresponding to them. 
The character of the ideal, the distinctness of its 
outline, the perfectness, the completeness, and the 
richness of the rendering, will also vary with the 
vigor of the imagination at the time and with the 
design for which it acts. 



132 THE SENSIBILITY. 



CHAPTER XIL 

MEMORY. 

§ 120. By memory, in its stricter sense, 
Memory, IS meant simply the retentive attribute of 

mind. Tlie best view to take of mem- 
ory is to regard it as the holding on of a feeling, 
a thought, or a purpose in the continuous life of the 
soul, § 24. Every impression made upon it abides 

in its effect ; every thinking act con- 
Expiained. tinues, ucver becoming extinct ; every 

choice and purpose likewise remains a 
part of the mind's ceaseless activity. We may as 
well suppose that matter or force can be anni- 
hilated as that the effect of force can die out ut- 
terly ; and so we may as well suppose that the 
mind or a part of it may die out, as that its action, 
any movement it may experience either from the 
impressions of other forces or from its own prompt- 
ing, may utterly cease to be. We easily enough 
accept the truth that strong feelings, momentous 
thoughts, decisive purposes of our lives, may live 
on for ever ; we cannot with any consistency hesi- 
tate to believe that less important acts of our minds 
also live on. If a o'reat thouefht has a life that 



MEMORY. 133 

reaches through the entire Hfe of the mind, every 
lesser thought must have the same perpetuity. The 
single drop, as well as the great tributary, remains 
in the swelling river. The great tributary of 
thought is in fact made up of the little drops of 
experience, and cannot be without them. 

The impossibility of recalling all the tra,nsient 
thoughts of past years, does not disprove this sup- 
position of the continuance of every thought and 
feeling. This impossibility is to be attributed to 
the limited power of the human mind to recognize 
the minute parts of its experience, not to the anni- 
hilation of those experiences. The originally clear 
stream of the Mississippi receives into its volume 
the whitish muddy waters of the M'ssouri, then the 
greenish muddy Ohio, and then the reddish mud- 
dy streams of the Arkansas and Red rivers. For 
a little space each tributary maintains its separate 
integrity so far that it may be distinguished ; but 
as the augmented stream rolls on, the waters inter- 
mix more and more, till in the lower course of the 
river the several discolorations seem to our limited 
vision to be all blended into one mass of turbid 
color. But each particle can by an infinite mind be 
traced back to its source, and the whole volume of 
water in the channel is what has come into it from 
these separate sources. In this case, indeed, some 
of the original supply is wasted into the air by 
evaporation, by diversions into little lakes,^ by use 
for irrigation or other purposes ; but in the great 
current of the mind's activity, nothing can be sup- 
posed to be thus v/asted. All that has entered the 



134 THE SENSIBILITY. 

Stream, the contribution of every minute transient 
experience, remains to swell and to characterize it. 
We have thus this great law of mind in relation to 
its power of retaining its function of memorv. 

§121. Every FEELING, EVERY THOUGHT, 

Perpetmtv of *• 

mental activ- EVERY CHOICE, ABIDES WITH THE MIND 

itv. 

FOREVER. 

The proofs of this principle of memory ma}' be 
summarilv exhibited as follows : 

1. The presumption is that every action 
prTsumptSr of t^^e i^^i^^^ continues. It may not 

continue entirely unmodified ; its form 
may change ; it ma}^ exist as cause or in its effect ; 
it mav be now more or less connected with one 
mental experience and then with another ; it may 
be variously colored or shaped thus in the progress 
of experience. But as we must believe that every- 
thing that is, continues, unless Ave have some reason 
for believing that it has ceased to be, and as there 
is no such reason for supposing our mental action 
to die out utterly, we must accept the law of the 
deathlessness of memory as valid. 

2. Analogy confirms this view. Mat- 
aio?y°™ ^^' ^*^^'' ^^'^ believe, is never annihilated ; 

force is never annihilated ; motion, the 
effect of force, is never annihilated ; we conclude 
that, unless something can be shown to destro}" the 
analogy, mind and its action continue. Matter 
changes its form ; force changes its direction and 
also its form ; one motion passes into other mo- 
tion, as the motion of gravity or of the mass passes 
into the motion of cohesion and repulsion, the mo- 



MEMORY. 135 

tion of atoms ; but with change of form each con- 
tinues. The quantity of matter in the universe, 
the quantity of force, the aggregate of the quanti- 
ties of motion remain the same. At least created 
things have no power to destroy their own being or 
their own essential attributes. We are led thus to 
believe that mental activity once originated abides 
in some form, positive or negative, as long as the 
mind itself exists ; that every feeling, thought, and 
purpose hold on and are retained in the mind's 
being. 

3. Facts from ordinary experience 

3. From com- -^ 

mon experi- Strengthen these arguments from pre- 
sumption and from analogy. It fre- 
quently happens that little circumstances, which 
we should have supposed were too trivial to be re- 
tained in memory, reappear in our thoughts, called 
forth by some association perhaps strange to us. 
Objects which we have seen, words which we have 
heard from others, or had uttered ourselves, that 
had all vanished from our consciousness, somehow 
come up into our thoughts afresh. In old age little 
circumstances that occurred in childhood are re- 
called with a freshness and a vividness that seem 
surprising. Sometimes all the great experiences of 
middle life have faded out from the memory of the 
old, while the scenes of childhood are revived, and 
are lived over in recollection with wonderful ex- 
actness and fulness. In the same way, too, that 
which we have dreamed and which had so lightly 
impressed us that we did not recall it when we 
waked, returns, months or years after it may be, 



136 THE SENSIBILITY. 

in second dreams that recall even the little details 
of the first. Still further, we have the great fact 
that thoughts and feelings and dispositions are per- 
petually coursing through our minds, which could 
appear there only as the retained acts of previous 
life. These thoughts . and feelings may not come 
up, and for the most part do not come up, into dis- 
tinct consciousness one by one. But there is a 
volume of thought that is retained from the past, 
streaming along and shaping and coloring our pres- 
ent thought. We meet, for example, an old friend 
in the street after a long absence ; thoughts, feel- 
ings, scenes, objects, pleasures, sorrows, plans, 
hopes, actions, that have lain buried for years out 
of conscious thought, pour through our minds. In 
truth, every thought we have must be affected 
more or less by CA^ery thought we have CA^er had, 
really, although it may be imperceptibly to our 
finite vision. The little boat that floats on the 
broad bosom of the great river near its mouth, is 
sustained in its part by every drop that has come 
into the stream from the most distant httle spring 
from the other side of the continent. We are un- 
able to discern any lifting of the water except for a 
few inches from the boat that presses down into 
the stream and so displaces the water around it. 
But every drop at the remotest bank is displaced 
according to its relations, and every drop on the 
bottom of the channel feels its part of the pressure. 
One of the most dec'sive proofs of this great law 
of the perpetuity of our mental experiences is found 
in the familiar fact of being turned roimd, as it is 



MEMORY. 137 

called. We enter a strange place without having 
observed a turn we have made in our course. We 
have been going on a road leading northward, for 
example, and, without noticing it, we have turned 
into one leading eastward ; this road will seem to 
us afterwards as if leading northward. The sun 
seems to us to rise in the south. Wc reason 
against the impression, but the first impression re- 
sists evidence and argument. If our intelligence 
is corrected, often our governing impulses follow 
the first impression whenever we are off our guard. 
If we are thus turned round in a strange city, we 
may move aright through one or two streets while 
we are guarding ourselves against being misled by 
the feeling ; but as soon as we surrender our move- 
ments to the control of our mere purpose in walk- 
ing, we turn north when we should go east. It is 
marvellous with what persistence such impressions 
in regard to the points of the compass abide in the 
mind. The writer has known of an instance when 
such an erroneous impression remained fresh and 
strong for many years, and, although the street 
was traversed several times a day, still remained 
so vigorous and s'rong as to require habitual care 
and watchfulness to prevent mistake. 

4. Facts of extraordinary experience 
dina^y &:perience confimi in our miuds the conviction 
that what is once experienced by the 
mind is ever retained by it. 

In insanity, it is often observed that thoughts are 
recalled which, both before and after the attack, 
were ]:cyond all power of recollection. These re- 



138 THE SENSIBILITY. 

tained thoughts, also, reappear with a marvellous 
freshness and completeness. The records of Hos- 
pitals for the insane are replete with instances of 
mental activity stored with thoughts and feelings 
and volitions from past experience that have so out- 
measured the seeming capacity of the mind in a 
sound state as to be well nigh incredible. A gentle- 
man in an insane retreat, says Dr. Rush, astonished 
everybody with his displays of oratory ; and a lady, 
he writes, sang hymns and songs of her own com- 
position so perfect that he used to hang upon them 
with delight whenever he visited her, and yet she 
had never shown a talent for poetry or music in any 
previous part of her life. 

In fever, also, similar facts are frequently occur- 
ring. The Countess de Laval was wont in sickness 
to talk in her sleep in a language that the servants 
could not understand. A nurse from her native 
province, Brittany, being engaged to attend her, 
however, recognized the strange speech as her 
native tongue. Yet when awake the Countess did 
not understand a word of Breton, so entirely had it 
seemingly passed from her recollection. 

Coleridge narrates a similar case of an illiterate 
3^oung woman of four or five and twenty, who in a 
nervous fever was heard to talk in Latin, Greek, 
and Hebrew. The matter excited great interest 
and on a protracted and thorough investigation it was 
ascertained that at the age of nine years she had 
been taken in charity into the house of a learned 
pastor where she remained some years until his 
death. This pastor had been accustomed to walk 



MEMORY. 139 

up and down a passage of his house into which the 
kitchen-door opened and to read aloud from his 
favorite books in these learned languages. Sheets 
full of her utterances were taken down from her 
lips ; they had no connection with one another, yet 
each sentence was complete and coherent with itself. 
It was discovered thus that these recitations of her 
master, from languages utterly unknown to her, had 
been retained so perfectly that even after the lapse 
of years, in the excitement of the sensibility in 
fever, she was able to render them distinctly and 
perfectly. 

The experiences of persons recovered when near 
being drowned are in evidence here. They fre- 
quently say that the events of their whole lives pass 
in clear, distinct, full review before them. A case 
narrated by the subject to the author, is a sufficient 
exemplification. He had been entrusted with the 
keeping of a package of valuable papers by a rela- 
tive when about taking a long journey. On the 
return of his friend, he was utterly unable to recall 
where he had placed the package. The most dili- 
gent and careful search as well as every effort of 
recollection failed to discover the desired package. 
Years after when bathing, he was seized with cramp 
and sank. He rose and sank again ; and, as he was 
just sinking the third time, a companion succeeded 
in reaching and rescuing him. During the momen- 
tary interval between his disappearance the third 
time and his being seized by his companion, his 
whole life in its minute incidents passed in review 
before his mind ; and amona: them the fact of his 



140 THE SENSIBILITY. 

secreting the package and the place where he had 
concealed it. He proceeded immediately to the 
spot, where he found, just as he had placed it, what 
he had so lono- sou^-ht in vain. 

A singular case of catalepsy, cited by Hamilton 
from a German work by Abel, is also in evidence 
that men's forgetfulness is not decisive proof against 
this perpetuity of mental experiences. In this case 
a young man, some six minutes after falling asleep, 
would begin to speak distinctly and almost always 
of the same objects and connected events, so that 
he carried on from night to night the same history. 
On awakening he had no remembrance whatever of 
his dreaming thoughts. Thus it was that by day 
he was the poor apprentice of a merchant ; while 
by night he was a married man, the father of a family, 
a senator, and in affluent circumstances. If during 
his vision, any thing was said to him in regard to 
what occurred to him during the waking state, he 
would declare that it was all a dream. 

While memory proper has for its essential attri- 
bute this character of retentiveness, it must be borne 
in mind that it is the retentiveness of an active 
nature. It is not the retentiveness of a rock or of 
steel which retains the lines which have been in- 
scribed upon them. It is not the retentiveness of 
a vessel or cell that retains what has been poured 
in or packed away in it. It is not the retentiveness 
of an animal organ that retains the disposition of 
fibres or of cells which it may in any way have re- 
ceived. It is the retentiveness of an enduring active 
being, which not only receives impressions accord- 



MEMORY. 141 

ing to its own active nature, but uses these impres- 
sions afterwards more or less in all its ceaseless 
action. 

Memory is to be conceived of as something more 
than a mere capability to recall past experiences. 
At least an empty capability of recollection does not 
express the full truth. These past experiences live 
on in a true sense and are active parts of the 
present mental being. The man of learning, of 
achievement, of suffering, is more than a being 
capable of recalling his past thoughts and deeds 
and trials. These experiences have entered into 
his soul and have enlarged and strengthened it; 
whether any one or more of them are distinctly in 
his present consciousness or not, he is more and 
d'fferent because of them ; his words, his steps, all 
he does, evinces a fulness of power, a mode and 
form of movement, a character in short altogether 
different from a nature that had not had these 
experiences. The adult man differs from the child 
in something more than a mere capability of bring- 
ing into his consciousness certain things of the past. 
His consciousness is a capability, a power indeed, 
but a capability, a power, replete with knowledge, 
with skill, with passion. 

§ 122. This law of retentiveness in 

Three conditions . ^ . , . . , 

of good memory, muid as an activc nature nnposes three 
conditions of a good memory. They 
are founded respectively in the subject-matter of 
remembrance — in what is to be remembered ; in 
the relation of each thing remembered to other things 
in the mind ; and in the character of mind itself. 



142 THE SENSIBILITY. 

§ 123. I. The first condition of a good 
ject J"'^*^^"^ °^ memory is that it accepts as what it is to 

retain, so far as possible, only what the 
mind may need or wish to use. 

The mind, as we have seen, is subject to impres- 
sions from without, beyond its control. It has con- 
sequently feelings, thoughts, and volitions, which it 
could not altogether prevent. But it has neverthe- 
less a power to a large extent both to regulate the 
kind of impressions to which it will allow itself to 
be open, and still more to shape them when re- 
ceived to its own uses. Now, nothing can be more 
important to all the great ends of memory, which 
is to retain forever for future use and influence 
upon the mind every feeling and thought and desire 
and purpose, than that just the right impressions, 
the right feelings, the right thoughts, the right vo- 
litions, should enter the memory. No feeling or 
thought or intention which we do not feel willing 
to have ever confronting us, ever shaping and color- 
ing our destiny, ever present in our soul's very 
being, and working in us and on us whether we are 
conscious of it or not, whether we are willing or 
not, should; if it lie in our power to prevent it, ever 
be allowed to enter our minds. If any such im- 
pression comes upon us, then should it be so con- 
trolled and shaped as that ever afterwards when it 
reappears it shall be in a welcome form, and shall 
when we are unconscious of it be silently influ- 
encing our whole mental action favorably. Our 
observations, our readings, our reflections, our rev- 
eries even, should be such as will fill our memories 



MEMORY. 143 

with nothing but what we shall in every moment of 
our subsequent lives be glad to find there. The 
scenes, the objects, the associates, the books, all the 
occasions of our feeling and acting should be care- 
fully regulated with this view and under this mo- 
mentous consideration, that what they bring into 
our minds is to remain, in us perpetually. 

Particularly does this characteristic of a good 
memory — good for the mind's uses — prescribe that 
our observations and our thoughts be accurate and 
true, as we would not have falsehood or error to 
mar all our coming thought. 

It prescribes, also, that our feelings and acts 
should be in the most perfect form into which our 
imaginations can shape impressions or suggestions ; 
that every recurring thought and imagination may 
shed the radiance of beauty on all our inward ex- 
perience. A feeling of pain thus, that a stroke of 
malice has inflicted, may continue to exist in our 
minds to color more or less their whole future, ac- 
cording as our imaginations, reacting on the re- 
ceived impression, invests the pain in a form of for- 
giveness and of pity, or of bitter resentment. Thus 
it may be with all impressions which in themselves 
may be undesirable. They may be put ni forms 
that shall never recur but to gladden and refresh us. 

It prescribes, moreover, that all our intentions, 
our plans, our endeavors, and all other voluntary 
acts should be just and right, so that none shall in 
all the future of our being be present in our minds 
to disturb, to annoy, or to bring righteous retribu- 
tion in evil of any kind upon us. 



144 



THE SENSIBILITY. 



§ 124. 2. The second condition of a 
2. Aid of asso- p-ood memorv is that it so Hnlcs in every 

ciation. o V -' 

fresh experience with past acts and feel- 
ings, as to make it most easily to be recalled, and 
to work most serviceably for all that the mind can 
properly desire. 

The importance of observing this principle in the 
culture of the memory will be more fully seen when 
the nature and laws of association are explained. 
This will be the topic of the next chapter. 

§ 125. 3. The third condition of a 
t-^rest^^^^^ ^^^' good memory is that it enlists a lively 

energy of the whole mind in its in- 
terest. 

What is to be preferably remembered, what is to 
be present with us when we may happen specially 
to need it, what is to influence greatly all our future 
thought and feeling, should receive the most of the 
mind's vigor and strength. What we receive list- 
lessly, while it may in a sense abide with us, can in- 
fluence us but little, can be little at our command in 
the time of need. What engages our interest deep- 
ly and vividly, we retain best for use and service. 

§ 126. Under the great principle of 

Rules of mem- ^^^^^^^.y ^^^^ ^^,^^.y ^^^ ^^^ fecHng 

abides forever in the mind's active na- 
ture, in its degree and way shaping and coloring all 
its movements, we have thus the three specific 
rules of memory that have been stated : 

I. That, so far as may be, only true thoughts, 
beautiful imaginings, good intentions and endeavors 
enter our memories. 



MEMORY. 145 

2. That all fresh acts and feelings be properly 
associated with existing thoughts and feelings ; 
and 

3. That what we wish to be most ready and 

serviceable in our memories engage at the time 

the mind's utmost interest, attention, and care. 
7 10 



146 THE SENSIBILITY. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

MENTAL REPRODUCTION. 
§ 127. By MENTAL REPRODUCTION is 

dJicw"^^^^^ meant the reawakening in tlie present 

consciousness of previous acts and feel- 
ings. It applies to all the phenomena of mind — to 
its feelings, its thoughts, and its volitions. It is 
the necessary condition of imagination. It has 
been also named sus-o-estion and association of ideas. 

In order to a right understanding of 
Explained. tliis fuuctiou, it is ucccssary to bear 

in mind distinctly that the ideas re- 
awakened by this reproductive function are intro- 
duced into a living nature, having at the time feel- 
ings, thoughts, and volitions, so that the old or re- 
awakened ideas co-exist with the new or present, and 
with them form one complex condition of the mind 
— one complex body of mental experience. 

§ 128. Mental reproduction may be 
voiTntai-r'' °' ^^^^"^^^ spontaneous or voluntary ; may 

take place in the unregulated flow of 
the mind's activity, or may be more or less directly 
controlled by the will. 

Spontaneous reproduction takes place as the 



MENTAL REPRODUCTION. I47 

characteristic element in what is known under 
the more familiar name of Revery. 

In revery the mind surrenders itself with no 
conscious control to its own current, so to speak, al- 
lowing thought and feeling to flow on according to 
their own tendency. In this state we discover, as 
we reproduce it for study into our thought, that one 
thought is followed by another, one feeling by an- 
other, and thought is followed by feeling, as well as 
feeling by thought. The interesting question 
arises, what determines this suggestion of one men- 
tal state by another. " Therein," says one, " lies the 
greatest mystery of all philosophy." This mystery 
psychologists have sought to explain by indicating 
the general principles or laws of reproduction, or of 
suggestion, otherwise called the laws of the associa- 
tion of ideas. 

That there is some bond of connection, that there 
is some ground of association, psychologists have 
admitted or assumed. These thoughts and feehngs 
that pass along through the mind one after another, 
they agree, do not come hap-hazard ; they succeed 
one another under a governing law. 

It may be remarked here that beyond all reason- 
able question the succession of thoughts and feel- 
ings in dreams and in insanity, is similar to the 
succession in revery, and with some modifications 
is subject to the same laws. 

From the earliest times philosophers 
^sIciatioT''*^^ have presented, one after another, each 
his own enumeration of the laws of as- 
sociation. Sir William Hamilton has gathered up 



148 THE SEXSIBTLITY. 

these proposed principles and reduced them all to 
the following classes. Thoughts are associated, he 
says, in the respective opinions of these philoso- 
phers, I, if connected in time ; 2, if adjoining in 
space ; 3, if related as cause and effect, as means 
and ends, or as whole and part ; 4, if similar or in 
contrast ; 5, if products of the same mental power, 
or of different powers conversant with the same ob- 
ject ; 6, if the objects of the thoughts are the sign 
and the signified ; 7, if their objects are directed by 
the same word or sound. He himself thinks these 
principles may all be reduced under one law;, which 
he calls the law^ of Redintegration, (restoration to a 
whole), and which he thus enounces : " Those 
thoughts suggest each other which had previously 
constituted parts of the same entire or total act of 
cognition." 

The law as thus enounced, it must be said how- 
ever, is palpably insufficient to meet the demands 
of the problem. It does not embrace feelings or 
volitions ; no explanation whatever is given of the 
fact that one feeling drawls in another feeling, and 
one purpose another purpose, nor of the fact that 
feelings suggest thoughts. Nor does it even cover 
the familiar fact that a perfectly new thought, 
which therefore could not have previously consti- 
tuted a part of any act of cognition, suggests old 
thoughts Of new thoughts. I meet a stranger in 
the street, whom I have never seen or heard of be- 
fore ; the sight may suggest any one of ten thousand 
different thoughts or feelings. 

The same fatal deficiencv in meeting the de- 



MENTAL REPRODUCTION. 1 49 

mands of the problem, characterizes other attempts 
to gather up into an exhaustive statement the man- 
ifold grounds of association or suggestion. It is 
true that one part of a past thought may suggest 
another part ; it is true also that some similarity in 
thoughts is a bond which unites them so that they 
may suggest one another ; it is true that connec- 
tion in time or space, or as cause and effect, is a 
ground of suggestion ; and so of all the other pro- 
posed laws ; they are grounds, but all together 
they do not make up all the grounds of suggestion. 
The problem to be solved, the mystery to be ex- 
plained, is analogous to this. A particle of the 
green mud from the Ohio is found united in the 
Great River with a particle of the red mud from 
the Arkansas ; they come together under the oper- 
ation of inflexible laws of nature ; can now — this is 
the problem — can these laws be stated and be 
traced in their operation to their bringing together 
these two particles ^ The analogy would be more 
exact if we were to suppose all the particles that 
have ever come into the channel of the Great 
River to be brought to a stand against some im- 
mense perpendicular barrier, and the river under 
its own laws to be shifting continually the posi- 
tions of the entire mass of particles and thus bring- 
ing the two particles into ever new yet ever shifting 
positions and relations. That the two particles 
meet and unite is undoubtedly due to some fixed 
law or laws of nature. We have the great law of 
gravity bearing the two down together in the same 
open channel ; we have the probability that if the 



150 THE SENSIBILITY. 

two particles* entered the same part of the current 
at the same time, they might come together. If 
they had been subject to equivalent forces of re- 
pulsion from the banks, of impulse from winds, of 
depression from floating objects, of rarefaction from 
heat, and the like, we have in these conditions 
other reasons for their being together. But so 
manifold are the influences at work, that human 
reason recoils from the task of tracing them all. 

It is so with the associations of any two 
General princi- thoughts or fcelings lu the mind. The 

one principle that covers - the whole 
matter is simply this: They are states of the 
same one mind, as the two particles supposed are 
parts of the same rolling river ; and this mind has 
power, under favoring conditions, to call forth into 
consciousness, within certain hmits at least, any 
part of its collected activity of thought and feeling 
and volitions ; and therefore power within such limits 
to connect any present state of consciousness with 
such recollected thought or feeling or volition, and so 
bring to the surface of its great volume of accumu- 
lated experiences, that is into distinct conscious- 
ness, a new mental experience. It is not presuma- 
ble that any absolutely universal law of associa- 
tion can be framed other than this, that all associa- 
ted ideas must belong to the one same mind ; and 
that any one idea may, in the possibility of things, 
be associated with any other idea of the same 
mind ; just as two particles of white and red mud 
in the Great River must, to be brought together, 
be in the same stream, and any two in that stream 



MENTAL REPRODUCTION. I5I 

may, in the possibility of things, be brought to- 
gether. 

But in co-existence with this general law there 
may be, and in fact there are, other more specific 
laws implying the existence of specific causes 
which may effect the association of ideas. As these 
more specific laws may be convenient helps to re- 
collection, it may be of service to make a formal 
and collective statement of the principles of asso- 
ciation. Whatever Hmitations of this power of 
recollection may exist, it may be remarked, pertain 
only to the mind as finite ; not to the relation be- 
tween any two thoughts or feelings. The general 
principle is, that nothing but the weakness of mind 
as a finite nature hinders the association of any two 
mental acts or feelings which the mind has ever ex- 
perienced. The principle implies both that no 
mental exercise ever becomes annihilated so that 
on this account it cannot be recalled, and also that 
every exercise is so connected with every other 
that the one may possibly suggest the other. 

§ 120. Laws of Mental Associa- 

Special Jaws. i. 

Any part of ex- TiON. I. Any part of the mind's total 

perience may be . . ., . , 

associated with experience may be associated with any 
anyo lei. other, and so in favoring conditions 

suggest it. In briefer terms : In the same mind 
any idea may suggest any other idea. 

This is the comprehensive law. It includes all 
kinds of mental experience, feelings and volitions as 
well as thoughts. Any feeHng may suggest any 
other feeling, or any thought, or any volition which 
has entered into the mind's experience. By sug- 



152 THE SENSIBILITY. 

gesting here, it should be borne in mind, is meant 
bringing forth from unconscious experience into 
distinct consciousness. 

§ 130. 2. Any part of the mind's ex- 
part5°'°^^^^*^ perience may suggest any co-ordinate 
part : — any idea suggests with special 
power a co-ordinate idea. 

A feeling may suggest a co-ordinate feeling. A 
man in a mood of excited feeling is easily drawn 
into another feeling. We pass more easily to weep- 
ing from laughter than from an utterly unfeeling 
state. 

In the same way thought helps thought. It is a 
common practice with intellectual men to prepare 
themselves for clear, accurate, vigorous thought 
on any subject by putting themselves on the in- 
tense study of some other subject into which the 
mind can more readily enter. Lord Brougham 
trained himself for a great intellectual effort by a 
long and intense study of Demosthenes' Oration on 
the Crown. 

An active will in any one direction easily slides 
into action in any other direction. It is easier thus 
to enlist an active man in a new enterprise than the 
dull and idle, 

§ 131. 3. A generic part of mental ex- 
paiS^"'^^'^^*^ perience may suggest any subordinate 
part ; and conversely the subordinate 
may suggest the generic or comprehensive. Ideas 
that are respectively super-ordinate and subordin- 
ate to each other mutually suggest each other. 

A man in an angry mood easily breaks out in 



MENTAL REPRODUCTION. 1 53 

new passion towards any particular object, whether 
newly presented or reawakened in memory. Com- 
passion towards a single sufferer inclines to pity for 
ail of the class, for general good will. 

To recall the individual of a class to our thought, 
we naturally turn to the class and from that seek to 
recall the desired object ; or conversely, having the 
individual in our mind and desiring to recall the 
class, we naturally endeavor to realize our wish by 
thinking of the individual. 

It is the same with the will. We form a general 
purpose ; it brings on all subordinate purposes. 
We resolve to speak, and the determination leads 
on to an indefinite number of subordinate pur- 
poses controlling our attitude, our gesticulation, our 
sentences, oar respiration, our vocalization, our single 
words, our articulations. The single purpose re- 
acts too on the general purpose and carries it on, 
keeps it alive, as well as guides and modifies it 
Nothing better seems to revive a dormant resolu- 
tion than to do some particular thing involved in it, 
or which may be made part of it. 

§ 132. 4. Parts of the same object of 
by obTe'S^''''' mental activity suggest co-ordinate or 

subordinate parts. 
This iS' but another form in fact of stating the 
preceding laws ; it respects directly the object of 
mental action, while they respect the mental action 
itself. 

§ 133. 5. Parts ofthe same symbols or 
5, Bysymboh. sigus of objccts in the same way suggest 

other co-ordinate or subordinate parts. 
7* 



154 THE SENSIBILITY. 

If the mind hcis before it either part of the word, 
farezvell, fair, or ivell, that part may suggest the 
other; or it may suggest any one of the parts of 
which it is composed. The philologist, for in- 
stance, may think of one or another of the sounds 
or the w^ritten characters which constitute the 
word. The cherubs in Raphael's Sistine Madonna 
will suggest the Madonna herself or any other part 
of the picture, or any posture, expression, or feature 
in the cherubs themselves. 

§ 134. 6. Mental experiences of more 
cenl'^^ "^^^"^ ^^ recent occurrence have greater sug- 
gestive power : The more recent the 
idea, th3 greater is its power to suggest. 

This law of association, it will be observed, is of 
a different source and character from the preceding. 
It is founded in the attribute of growth that we have 
found to belong to the human mind. Every new 
stage of its existence brings in a new stage of 
growth, a fresh life, a larger development. Such at 
least is the general law. The most recent life con- 
sequently has a greater vigor and intensity. 

This fact of association we all familiarly recog- 
nize. We recall the occurrences of yesterday more 
readily than those of the last year ; and these more 
readily than those of ten years before. The la.w, 
of course, regards experiences of the same character 
otherwise, such as experiences of the same close- 
ness of connection with the suggesting act or 
feeling ; or experiences of the same interest and 
importance. 

An apparent exception to this law is found in the 



MENTAL REPRODUCTION. I 55 

experience of aged persons, who often recall the 
events of childhood and youth more readily and 
more vividly than those of later years. But this 
fact may be accounted for in part at least, on the 
ground that their habitual thoughts at this period of 
life run in the channels of earlier experiences. 
These, therefore, from their being revived and 
lived over again, are really the freshest and 
latest in their minds. Farther than this, other 
principles of association may come in. External 
scenes and objects, individual associations, and 
numberless influences from personal attachments 
and repulsions, come in to make parts of a mental 
experience by which other parts are suggested. 

§ 135. VII. The intensity of the men- 
exp^rience."^ °^ ^^^ experience is an important element 

in association or suggestion: — The 
more vivid the idea, the stronger is its suggestive 
power. 

Intense feeling kindles at once from the faintest 
impression. An angry man bursts into stronger 
passion from a provocation of any kind. Ener- 
getic thinking fuses all the particular thoughts to- 
gether, so that as if inseparable one cannot return 
into the mind without drawing in the others. Our 
resolutions carry all subordinate purposes just in 
proportion as they are strong and energetic, enlist- 
ing the whole soul. When such a governing 
purpose is earnest and decided, all purposes that 
are foreign to it, even if occasion should suggest 
them, give way at onee. When, likewise, a specific 
purpose is thus earnest, all other specific purposes 



156 THE SENSIBILITY. 

under the same general resolution, fall in more 
easily. Weak souls are ever characterized as incon- 
sistent. 

If the demand be pushed farther for the reason 
why in any particular case this part is suggested 
rather than that,while sometimes a more subordinate 
law may be assigned, ultimately we are obliged from 
the finiteness of our power to fall back upon the first 
general law given, — the unity of the mind itself 
carrying in its complex activity all the special ac- 
tivities of feeling, of thought, and of volition, just as 
we are forced, in attempting to account for the 
union of the two particles of mud to fall back on 
the general fact of their being in the same whirling, 
rolling stream. So many forces come in of such 
various intensity, from the world without, from the 
state of the body and its nervous organism ; from the 
habits, tastes, moods, of the individual mind itself ; 
that it is beyond the power of created intelligence 
fully to account for all the associations of ideas 
that it experiences. It must be recollected that 
these forces come up as well from the vast volume 
of our unconscious experience as from the mere 
surface of mental action which our distinct con- 
sciousness takes up. 

§ 136. Mental reproduction may be to 
2. Recollection. ^^^^^ extcut undcr the direction of the 
will. Voluntary reproduction is famil- 
iarly denoted by the term recollection. 

We recognize this fact that reproduction is in 
some measure subject to our wills when in our de- 
sire to recall some past experience we endeavor 



MENTAL REPRODUCTION. 1 57 

to direct our thoughtsor feeling towards it. We do 
this in two different ways : positively by keeping in 
our consciousness some experience associated with 
what we wish to recall ; and negatively, by repelling 
thoughts and feelings' that are more foreign to it. 

The positive endeavor to recall a past experience 
will of course best be guided by the laws of asso- 
ciation. It assumes some feeling, or thought, or 
volition from which it is to proceed as its necessary 
ground and starting point. With this experience in 
the consciousness, recollection properly sets out 
and then puts itself under the lead of the laws of 
association as they have been already stated. The 
best rules of recollection may accordingly be thus 
summarily given : — 

§ 137. Rules of recollection. I. 
I. Like depart- Recall feeling by feeling, thought by 

ment of mmd. & J &' & J 

thought, purpose by purpose. 
Early affection for a friend long separated from 
us may best be revived from a similar state of affec- 
tion in exercise towards a friend still with us. In 
like manner a former thought is best revived when 
thinking rather than feeling or endeavoring is the 
predominant characteristic of the mind. Free- 
action in the same way revives a dormant purpose 
or endeavor. Even if the mind in a state of 
excited feeling desires to recall the train of thought 
out of which the feehng rose or with which it was 
associated, for the most part success will be most 
probable if the existing feehng first recall the old 
feeling and then that feeling revive its associated 
thought. 



158 THE SENSIBILITY. 

§ 138. 11. Recall ideas through the 

2. Whole and relation of whole and part. 

part. ^ 

If the feeling or thought or purpose 
to be recalled be generic or comprehensive, start 
from a subordinate experience ; if subordinate, 
start from a generic or comprehensive experience. 

To revive a governing disposition of filial duti- 
fulness, a present purpose in doing some particular 
act of filial duty will be the most hopeful. So a 
general thought is best recalled by thinking of 
some particular fact or instance in which that prin- 
ciple is exemplified. As for example, in recalling 
the general law of material gravitation, I may suc- 
ceed best by beginning with the law as instanced 
in a falling weight and thinking of the number of 
feet of fall in the first second, the number in the 
second, the number in the third, and so on. 

So to recall a subordinate purpose, it is best, if it 
be practicable, to begin with a generic or governing 
endeavor. To revive a neglected religious duty, 
the most hopeful method is to begin with a fresh- 
ened endeavor to do all religious duty. To recall 
a specific thought, it is well to begin with the 
general law that comprises that thought. 

§ 139. III. Recall objects through the 

3. Byassocia- Same relation of whole and part, as 

associated either with one another or 
with ths mental state which they respect. 

§ 140. IV. Words and other symbols 

4. By symbols, are most suggestive of like words and 

symbols, or of the objects or mental 
states with which they are associated. 



THE IMAGINATION. 1 59 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE ARTISTIC, PHILOSOPHICAL, AND PRACTICAL 
IMAGINATION. 

§ 141. Ideals, as the proper products 

Manifold func- ' ^ , . . . ^ ^ . . . ^ ^ 

tions of the 01 the imagination, may be distinguished 
ima-mation. .^^^.^ three general classes, correspond- 
ing to the three general functions of the mind, 
feeling, thinking, willing ; also to the three generic 
objects of all mental activity, the beautiful, the 
true, and the good. 

We have thus three functions of the imagination 
determined in reference to the character of its pro- 
duct or ideal : three forms of the imagination as an 
active power : — 

1 . T/ie A rtistic Imagination. 

2. The Philosophical Imagination. 

3. The Practical Imagination. 

It must be borne in mind here as every where, 
that these products of the imagination, these ideals, 
are so distinguished only as they are more promi- 
nently characterized respectively either as beautiful, 
true, or good. Every act of mind, every idea, has 



l6o THE SENSIBILITY. 

necessarily each of these attributes in some degree; 
but it may have one more prominent than the 
others wliich thus gives character to the act. If an 
artist frames an ideal of a virtue, as, for instance, 
of patriotism, or of filial affection, he necessarily 
regards more or less the principles of truth, of in- 
telligence, and also those of right-doing. But his 
governing end being a beautiful form, his ideal is 
characterized as properly artistic, not philosophical 
nor practical. The philosopher, in the same way, 
although his governing end is truth, and his labor 
is to attain or set forth what is true, still must 
regard the form which his speculations take and the 
effect in some way or other which they may work. 
But his prominent ideal being the true, it is easily 
distinguished by this characteristic ; it differs from 
a mere ideal to be marked by its beauty. A geo- 
metrical treatise does not properly take on a poetical 
form. The practical man, moreover, cannot disre- 
gard the form of his product, nor the essential 
attributes — the truth — of things ; but his act is 
characteristically distinct from the proper work of 
the artist and of the philosopher. 

Still further, the degrees in which the one or the 
other of these three great attributes of all mental 
activity, the attributes of form, truth, and practical 
effect, predominate in ideals, vary indefinitely. The 
practical philanthropist, who aims to do good as his 
chief governing aim, may put his act of kindness 
into such a frame of loveliness that we hesitate 
which to admire most, the beauty or the goodness 
of his act. In truth the imagination which shaped 



THE IMAGINATION. l6l 

his act may be regarded as having been both artis- 
tic and practical ; both graceful and beneficent. It 
may have been also eminently wise, conformed in all 
particulars to the truth of things. His act will be 
characterized as good, or beautiful, or true, accord- 
ing as one or another of these attributes is recog- 
nized as predominant in it. 

§ 142. The Artistic Imagination 
a^ination*^ ^"^' produccs idcals characterized by their 

form, as beautiful or the opposite. 
The governing end in the artistic imagination is 
form. The work may be more or less conformed 
to truth, may more or less promote truth ; it may 
proceed from a general benevolent intention and 
may be productive of good ; but the artist in his 
own proper specific work, looks to the form of his pro- 
duct. His work will indeed be more or less perfect 
inform according as he more or less strictly conforms 
his work to the truth of things, or as he works 
more or less perfectly in the line of goodness ; yet 
we have no difficulty in recognizing the work as 
characteristically a piece of art and not a work of 
speculation or of morality. 

It is the proper province of the science of aes- 
thetics to ascertain and apply the laws of the artis- 
tic imagination both in the production and in the 
interpretation of beauty. 

§ 143. The Philosophical Imagin- 
2. Philosophical. ATiON produccs idcals characterized by 

their essence as true or the opposite. 
The philosophical imagination seeks truth as the 
goverjiing end of its activity. The artistic imagin- 

II 



l62 THE SENSIBILITY. 

ation produces for the form's sake, although not 
transgressing the laws of the true ; the philoso- 
phical imagination, on the other hand, produces for 
the truth's sake, although not transgressing the 
laws of the beautiful. The mental act has a two- 
fold aspect ; one and single in itself ; it yet engages 
the imagination or the faculty of form and the in- 
telligence as the faculty of the true. If we re- 
gard the mental activity on the side of the imagina- 
tion we denominate it the philosophical imagination; 
if we regard it on the side of the intelligence, we 
call it the intellectual representation, § i88. 

It is the proper province of the science of logic 
to expound the laws by which the philosophical im- 
agination or the faculty of the intelligence acting 
in the representation of truth or knowledge, is to 
be governed. This science thus determines the 
valid forms of all thought or knowledge. 

§ 144 The Practical Imagination 
3. Practical. produccs ideals characterized by their 
tendency to a result or effect as good 
or the opposite. 

The practical imagination frames ideals of char- 
acter to which the whole activity of the soul is to 
be shaped. It devises plans of active exertion and 
methods of execution. As the life of the artist is 
characteristically that of one who is ever shaping 
beautiful forms, idealizing for the purpose of im- 
pressing beauty, and as the life of the student and 
the philosopher is characteristically a life busy with 
framing new and truer ideas of doctrine, of 
objects, of events, so the life of the practical man 



THE IMAGINATION. J63 

is characteristically the life of one busy in devising 
schemes of exertion, new pursuits, new enterprises, 
new methods of operation. 

It is the proper province of the science of ethics, 
in its broadest sense as comprising not only the du- 
ties of religion and morality, but also the acts of 
social life, of polity, civil and domestic economy? 
and those which pertain to personal well-being, to 
bodily and mental health and vigor, as well as the 
fulfilmxcnt of man's destiny as an active being, — it 
is the province of this broad science to unfold the 
laws by which practice in all these departments is 
to be regulated and controlled. 



164 THE INTELLIGENCE. 



BOOK III. 



THE INTELLIGENCE 



CHAPTER I. 

ITS NATURE AND MODIFICATIONS. 

§ 147. The INTELLIGENCE IS THE 

diligence 
defined. 



The mtelhgence j^jjj^Tj3'g FACULTY OF KNOWING 



This faculty is otherwise known as the 
Cognitive Faculty, or the Faculty of Cognition, and 
also as the Intellect. Its function is simply that of 
knowing ; and all knowing is by this faculty alone. 

§ 148. The intelligence is diversely 

Its modifica- t_c i • 

tions. niodmed in various respects. 

It is modified, first, in respect to its 
completeness or incompleteness. 

A complete knowledge, a complete cog- 
JompTetenlsr. ^^ition is attained, only when there is a 

subject united with some attribute — 
only, in other words, when there is an assertion 



ITS NATURE AND MODIFICATIONS. 1 65 

either affirmative or negative expressed or implied. 
There is a kind of knowledge which must be 
deemed to be in a certain sense incomplete which 
is preparatory and conditional to this complete 
knowledge, and which is attained when its object is 
apprehended simply, and prior to any distinguish- 
ing of it into subject and attribute. 

In other words, an act of knowledge is con- 
veniently for study distinguished into two stages, 
the preparatory stage and the completed stage. 

The preparatory stage of knowledge has 
knowkSre!^ been called Presentative Knowledge. 

As finite and dependent, the human 
mind can know nothing but as an object is given — • 
is presented to it. The mind's reception of such 
presented object — its apprehension of such object 
— is a presentative knowledge. 

But the intelligence cannot rest satis- 

Kiedgf '"' ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ "'^^^ presentative knowl- 
edge. Its essential activity prompts to 
a further stage in which the object presented to it 
in the preceding stage is recognized in a two-fold 
aspect — as subject and as attribute. Thus if any 
object is given to it, as for instance the sitn. the in- 
telligence at once proceeds to apprehend it as hav- 
ing an attribute — brightness ; and its knowledge is 
complete only when the mind is in that state which 
is properly expressed in a proposition, the sun is 
bright; sun and bright are not two different things 
in reality, but it is the native function of the mind at 
once in every single object presented to it to recog- 
nize such object under this form — the form of a 



1 66 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

subject and an attribute which it unites. This 
complete knowledge is properly termed representa- 
tive knozvledge, as it implies, in addition to the first 
stage or presentative knowledge, a reflex act of the 
mind on the object presented to it 

In the earlier stages of mental development pre- 
sentative knowledge has a greater relative promi- 
nence than in maturer life. The child perceives, 
simply apprehends, relatively more ; but as he ad- 
vances his simple apprehensions pass more habitual- 
ly into proper reflection or judging. 

§ 149. The intelligence, further, is 
ob/ecJ''^'''*° modified in respect to the diverse char- 
acter of its object. 
We have found that the comprehensive object 
for the intelligence is the true. But the true ever 
embraces three distinct elements or constituents — 
the subject, the attribute, and the uniting element 
called the copula. These elements may severally 
vary in manifold ways. They so far modify the act 
of the intelligence in knowing. 

§ 150. The intelligence, once more, is 

In respect to '^ , , ^ 

sources of know- modified in respect to the sources of 

ledge. . . , T 

Its knowledge. 
Its objects are presented to it from two differ- 
ent directions, which it is very important to 
recognize distinctly. These objects are brought to 
it in part from without and presented to it through 
the external senses. The presentative knowledge 

thus attained is called a perception or 
Perception. perceptive knozvledge. These objects 

are brought to it in part, moreover, from 



ITS NATURE AND MODIFICATIONS. 16/ 

the mind itself — from its own phenom- 
intuition. ^na. The presentative knowledge thus 

attained is called an intuition or intid- 
tive knowledge. 

§ 151. The intelligence, finally, ismod- 
othS wtioVs"^ ified ii"^ respect to the different functions 

of the mind itself. 
These functions have already been recognized as 
three-fold — the sensibility, the intelligence, and the 
will — as the functions of the same indivisible nature, 
which in no exercise of any one function ever drops 
entirely either of its other functions. Every act of 
the intehigence is more or less modified by the 
sensibility and the will. But the intelligence some- 
times acts upon its own operations. It takes know- 
ledge of them. It is then said to be conscious of its 
states. 

Not only this, but the human mind being both 
passive and active in every state, we have ever two 
sides to study — the passive side of knowledge, in 
which the intelligence apprehends its object, and 
the active side, in which the intelligence puts forth 
its object. 

We shall, in the future exposition of the intelli- 
gence, treat in 'separate chapters of the generic 
forms of these several modifications. 



l6S THE INTELLIGENCE. 



CHAPTER II. 

PERCEPTION. 

§ 152. Perception is that function of 
fined!^'^'*'" '^'" the intellig-encc by which an object pre- 
sented through the senses is simply ap- 
prehended. 

Here, as elsewhere, it is important to distinguish 
carefully the three-fold meaning of terms applied to 
the phenomena of the mind. The term perception 
is used to denote the faculty of perceiving ; the ex- 
ercise of this faculty, or the act of perceiving ; and 
also the result of this act. The term percept has. 
been proposed to denote the result or the product 
of perception. 

§ 153. Perception is the active or 
tion!^*^^^ "^ ^""^' knowing side, sensation the passive or 
feeling side, of the same mental state. 
We have already recognized the truth that the 
mind is in every experience both passive and active. 
This law of mind is formally proposed by Sir William 
Hamilton in its general form, as applied to all men- 
tal phenomena ; it is specifically recognized bv him 
in its application here in the summary statement: 
" Cognition and feeling are always co-existent." I 



PERCEPTION. 169 

perceive an orange at the same time that I have a 
sensation of it through the eye, the touch, the smell, 
or the taste. 

But while perception and sensation are 
tafsensatfon. ^""^^ oppositc sidcs of the samc mental 

state, which has ever an active and a 
passive side, they are to be distinguished from each 
other in several important respects. 

1. Sensation is the ground or occasion of the 
perception. It is, therefore, properly regarded as 
the logical antecedent of perception, and in this 
sense as prior to it. 

2. Sensation is not only the ground of percep- 
tion — not only conditions it so that perception can- 
not be without sensation — but it also determines 
and shapes perception. Only as perception con- 
forms itself exactly to the sensation is it legitimate 
or sound. 

§ 154. Generally and loosely speaking, 
to ir'^''^" ^^^^° sensation and perception are in the in- 
verse ratio to each other. The stronger 
the sensation, the weaker the perception, and the 
stronger the perception, the weaker the sensation. 

Sir William Hamilton has exemplified this gen- 
eral law in the comparison of the several special 
senses. In sight, perception is at the maximum, 
sensation at the minimum. We are hardly conscious 
of any feeling in seeing an ordinary object ; we are 
conscious of a decided knowledge of objects that 
we see. We look at the orange ; the sight of itself 
is without any feeling intense enough to be noticed; 

the knowledge of its being before us, of its being 

8 



I/O THE INTELLIGENCE. 

round and yellow, is perfect beyond that given by 
all the other senses combined. In hearing, there 
is far more of feeling than in sight ; far less of 
knowledge. In taste and smell and special touch, 
feeling greatly predominates and the perception is 
relatively slight and limited. 

If we take again any particular sense and regard 
it separately from the other senses, we notice that 
generally if the feeling is -strong, perception is 
weak and the reverse. If the sensation of sight, 
for instance, be strong, we are dazzled — we feel in- 
tensely ; but we perceive comparatively little. 

This law, however, cannot be adopted 
i^oiutr"°* as absolute or universal. The sensation 
may be so weak as to occasion no per- 
ception at all, when by the law it should be at its 
maximum. The strength of the perception often 
varies directly, not inversely as the sensation. If a 
man touch me gently with his finger, I hardly feel 
it perhaps, and hardly perceive the fact that I am 
touched, or what touched me ; I have but little 
knowledge because I have but little feeling. If he 
strike me violently with his cane I both feel and 
perceive intensely. 

This general truth, however, is ever to be. borne 
in mind that whatever the relation between the 
sensation and the perception in respect to their 
comparative intensity or strength, either one may 
become the object of consciousness to the exclu- 
sion of the other. The light may come streaming 
in from every visible object upon my eye and 
engage my whole mind with the mere feeling of its 



:preception. 171 

cheering impressions, so that I shall distinguish 
not a single object and have no conscious percep- 
tion. Or I may so attend to the knowledge of par- 
ticular objects as not to be distinctly aware of any 
sensation. 

§ 155. The Sphere of Perception is 
?eptior^^'" the world of sensible objects— the en-' 
tire realm of external phenomena of 
which we can have any intelligence. 

§ 156. Perception is an act of present- 
tZldgT^'' ative knowledge. It gives the knowl- 
edge of the object simply, without dis- 
tinguishing it into subject and attribute. 

I perceive an orange ; but in the perception 
itself I only know it as an object without passing 
on to think it to be round or yellow. 

§ 157. Perception gives accordingly 
Immediate. Only an immediate knowledge-^a knowl- 
edge not mediated through the distinc- 
tion of subject and attribute. 

It is true that every object that can be known 
must have an attribute. It is true that the mind 
tends to pass beyond the stage of incomplete know- 
ing to the complete knowledge under or through an 
attribute. But perception is confined to the first 
stage. It does not discriminate attributes. This 
discriminative or completed knowledge will be in- 
vestigated hereafter. 



1/2 



THE INTELLIGENCE. 



CHAPTER III. 



INTUITION. 



Intuition de- 
fined. 



§ 158. Intuition is that function of 
the intelhgence by which an object pre- 
sented by the mind itself is appre- 
hended. 

We have distinguished sense-ideals from spirit- 
ual ideals. The same distinction exists between a 
product of perception — a percept — and a product 
or result of intuition. An object of perception is 
known through the external senses — through a sen- 
sation ; an object of intuition is known through the 
mind's own action simply. The former belongs to 
the external world^the world of matter ; the latter 
to the internal world — the world of mind. 

§ 159. Intuition has been variously 
Synonyms. designated as self-consciousness ; the 
faculty of internal perception ; and the 
faculty of internal apprehension. 

The term mttution has been much used in a nar- 
rower sense to denote only the faculty of appre- 
hending what are called self-evident or neces- 
sary truths. Intuitions, thus, in this narrower use, 



INTUITION. 173 

are necessary truths or ideas. The term inUiitiojt 
is also used b}^ some writers in a larger sense to 
include all presentative knowledge, and consequent- 
ly perception as well as apprehension of internal 
phenomena. In German literature it is commonly 
used in this large sense. 

Shunning both of these opposite extremes in the 
use of the word, we shall employ it to denote that 
function of presentative knowledge by which the 
phenomena of mind are apprehended. Intuition 
and Perception thus constitute the total function of 
presentative knowledge — the former apprehending 
internal, the latter external phenomena. 

§ 160. The sphere of Intuition is ex- 
Sphere, actly defined as the sphere of mental 
phenomena. Of these we have recog- 
nized three general departments — feelings, cogni- 
tions, volitions. 

If we have a sensation of an orange — a taste ot 
it as sweet or juicy — we may apprehend that sensa- 
tion in our intelligence ; we may know the sensa- 
tion itself as truly as we know in perception the 
orange itself that caused it. If we have a feeling 
of anger, we may know this feeling. This knowl- 
edge of the feeling is an intuition. Just so if we 
have a perception, we may know that perception ; 
or if we have a volition, a purpose, we may know 
that act of will. 

§ 161. An Intuition is an act of presen- 
'^wTedgr tative knowledge. It presents the ob- 
ject simply — the feeling, the cognition, 
the volition. 



174 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

Intuition is, therefore, an incomplete knowledge. 
It does not distinguish the feeling into some thing 
having an attribute. We have in an intuition only the 
knowledge of the feeling before recognizing that it is 
strong or weak, that it is real or imaginary. Our minds 
by the tendency of their nature press on to a com- 
plete knowledge. But it is convenient to recognize 
this completed knowledge as attained by two dis- 
tinguished stages. Intuition brings us only over 
the first stage. It gives only incomplete and pre- 
paratory knowledge. ' 

§ 162. An Intuition gives, accordingly, 
Immediate.. an immediate knowledge, in the sense 
that the knowledge it gives is not medi- 
ated to us through an attribution. 

It follows from this that inasmuch as attribution 
ever gives a truth, an intuition properly regards 
an object, not a truth. If a truth, that is, if a prop- 
osition, be regarded in intuition, it is as an object 
simiply ; in the intuition there is no affirmation by 
the mind itself that the proposition is a true one. 



THOUGHT. 175 



CHAPTER IV. 

THOUGHT. 

§ 163. Thought is that function of 
Thought defined the intelligence by which an object is 
known by means of an attribute. 
The term thought, like intuition, is used in the 
threefold sense of (i) the faculty, (2) the exercise 
of the faculty, (3) the result or product of the exer- 
cise. 

The faculty itself is, moreover, called 
Synonyms. ^y different names, as, the Discursive 

Faculty, the Elaborative Faculty, the 
Comparative Faculty, the Faculty of Relations. 

The nature of thought may be thus 
Exemphfied. exemplified. If an orange is presented 

to my sight or touch, I have a sensation 
and a perception of it. So far as I am only per- 
ceiving, I do not distinguish any attribute from the 
subject or that to which the attribute is supposed 
to belong ; the perception does not reach the dis- 
tinction expressed in the proposition, the orange is 
round. It matters not whether it be apprehended 
by me as an object or as an attribute, as a round 
thing or as roundness and yellowness. Perception 



1/6 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

carries my mind only through the first or prepara- 
tory stage of knowing. But my mind passes on 
to the second stage or that of a completed knowl- 
edge, and then it has a thoitght of the orange, 
which is properly and fully expressed in the propo- 
sition, this thing is I'oiLiid. I have now (i) a sub- 
ject of which an attribute is thought — this tiling, 
(2) an attribute belonging to this subject — round, 
and (3) that which is expressed by the word 
is, which identifies this subject and this attri- 
bute as one and the same. This is a typical form 
of all primitive thought, to which all thought how- 
ever complex, however derived, may ever be referred 
back as the standard and model of all. I think when 
I distinguish in a perception or intuition attribute 
and subject, so that I can affirm the attribute of 
the subject as in the proposition : the orange is 
roicnd. 

It will be observed that the thought, this thing is 
roiptd, is before all proper abstraction, before all 
analysis, before all generalization. A blind person 
for the first time coming into the warm rays of the 
sun might have a thought of a thing as warm with- 
out knowing anything else about the sun. If his 
mind were left to its own tendency he could, on 
perceiving the warmth, proceed to a completed 
knowledge by thinking a subject as having an attri- 
bute. He would have the thought : tJie snn is zvarm. 
But in this he would not have abstracted any thing, 
any attribute from any other thing or from any 
other attribute, for there had been given him but 
one thing, one attribute. He had not analyzed any 



THOUGHT. 177 

thing or any attribute ; for the thing was. one and 
single and the attribute was one and simple, and 
neither therefore could be analyzed. He had not 
generalized ; for this thing might have been to him 
the first and only thing of a class of warm things ; 
it might have been to him the first conscious 
experience of the attribute of warmth. He cauld 
not of course in this case give the sun or warmth a 
name ; for he had only ^nd for the first time the 
thought, and naming, language, must necessarily 
follow, not precede thought. Abstraction, analysis, 
generalization, are processes which are applicable 
properly to complex and to derivative thought and 
apply to aggregated subjects and attributes; single 
and simple thought may take place without any of 
these processes. In order to obtain a clear and 
accurate notion of thought in its essential nature 
it is desirable to clear our view from all those pro- 
cesses which are not of the very essence of thought ; 
from all those processes accordingly which can be 
applied only to complex or derivative thought. 

§ 164. Thought follows and pre-sup- 
Orderofexpe- poscs perception and intuition, the 

one or the other, as perception fol- 
lows and pre-supposes sensation, and intuition 
follows and pre-supposes internal experience. 

The progress of the mind from the perception to 
the thought may be more or less rapid. It may be 
instantaneous as is the transition from sensation to 
perception, or the mind may linger on the percep- 
tion to obtain a deeper and fuller impression ; and 
thus it may happen that the progress may be 
8* 12 



178 THE INTFXLIGENCE. 

arrested and the perception never ripen into full 
thought. 

It is to be remarked, also, that a previous thought 
as well as a perception or intuition may be the ante- 
cedent to a new thought. The iiniteness and de- 
pendence of the human mind, however, compel us 
to the belief that perception, perhaps intuition also, 
must have preceded the first thought. 

§ 165. The three essential elements of 
ftoTo-hf' «f every thought are : — 

I The subject, or that of which 
some attribute is thought ; 

2. The attribute, or that which is thought of 
the subject ; and 

3. The COPULA, or that which unites or identifies 
the subject and the attribute. 

These three elements are essential in all valid 
thought, whether primitive or derivative. If not 
expressed they must be implied ; explicitly or im- 
plicitly, they exist in all legitimate thought. There 
is ever to be found a subject implying an attribute 
belonging to it, an attribute implying a subject to 
which it belongs, and the union or identification of 
this subject and this attribute. In the thought this 
thing is round the subject, this thing — orange — is 
not really different from the attribute ; we do not 
apprehend the orange, and then rou7tdness ; it is the 
same as the attribute, and is in fact identified with 
it in the thought by the copula, is. 

Subject and attribute are accordingly correlatives; 
the one necessarily implies the other ; neither can 
be without the other. Thev denote distinctions 



THOUGHT. 179 

which exist only in thought, not in the reahty of 
things. When we speak of the subject as the un- 
known basis of attributes, we can mean only that 
of subject apart from its correlative attribute, we 
can know nothing ; we know nothing except through 
some attribute and can know no attribute except as 
we know so far at least some subject to which it 
belongs. Knowledge is in fact when full and com- 
plete, nothing but the recognition of an object as 
something with an attribute. 

The term substance is synonymous with subject ; 
as is also sub strati Lin. They are all words from the 
Latin and alike point to that which underlies attri- 
butes. Substance and substratum are used more 
in metaphysical discourse, while siibject is a tech- 
nical word used in logical science, although not 
confined to this use. An attribute expressed in 
a proposition, is in logic termed^.a predicate. The 
subject and predicate in a logical proposition are 
called terms, from the Latin termini, limits, be- 
ing the terminal elements, while the copula is the 
middle and connecting element of the proposition. 

§ 166. Thought is properly called the 
Thought discur- disciLrsivc intelli2:ence, inasmuch as, 

sive. ^ 

when a perception is presented to it, 
the mind in thought runs in two directions — discundt 
— recognizing the single object presented in the 
perception under the twofold form of subject and 
attribute. 

The object remains the same ; it is still single. 
The change from the singleness in the perception 
to the twofoldness in the thousfht is in the mind 



l80 THE INTELLIGENCE, 

alone. But the mind retains the original single- 
ness in the object by its identifying the twofold 
members of the thought through the copula. 

§ 167. There are three generic forms of 
Forms. thought regarded as product : the judg- 

Dicnt ; the concept ; the reasoning. 
The judgment is the primitive form of thought ; 
the concept and the reasoning are derivative forms 
from the judgment. 

§ 168. The Judgment may be defined 

1. The judgment, as that fomi of thought in which an ob- 

ject is identified with an attribute. 
The regular form of a judgment in words is the 
proposition, which may be defined to be a jndgnient 
expressed in zvords. 

In Grammar the proposition is known as the 
sentence. 

§ 169. ./The Concept is a derivative from 

2. The concept. ^\-^^ judgment. It IS formed irom the 

matter of the judgment — from its terms 
— and may be derived either from the subject or 
from the predicate. 

The concept ever pre-supposes a judgment, and 
can be validated as a sound product of thought only 
by being referred to the judgment from which it 
is derived. Its name, from the Latin con-ceptnni, 
imports that it is from its very nature taken with 
the other term of the judgment from which it 
comes. It is also called conception, which term is 
likewise used to denote the act of the intelligence 
in forming the concept and also the intelligence 
itself when exercising this function of conceiving. 



THOUGHT. l8l 

If it come from the subject it is a subject con- 
cept ; if from the predicate or attribute, it is a pre- 
dicate concept. These two kinds of concept have 
characteristics widely diverse. Not a Httle con- 
fusion and error arise from a failure to distinguish 
them. 

If we unite the subjects of judgments 
Generalization, having the samc predicate, we have 

generic or class-concepts, which are ex- 
pressed in grammatical class-notuis. The process 
of thought in deriving this kind of concepts is Gen- 
eralization. , 

If we unite the predicates of several 
Determination, judgments, wc havc coifipositc conccpts, 

expressed in grammatical abstracts. 
This is the logical process of Determination. 

We may think of an attribute as a sub- 
Category, ject. We may take thus the attribute 

ronnd 2.ndi think of it as having this or 
that attribute. We express it in that case in the 
form of a noun — roundness ; as we say, the rotcnd- 
ness is perfect, tJie roundness is i7Jtp effect ; it is 
that of a circle or that of a sphere ; and the like. 
Then we may unite several subjects of this kind 
when parts of judgments having the same predicate, 
and we have a class of attributes. A class of at- 
tributes is called in distinction from a class of orig- 
inal subjects, a category, from a Greek word 
signifying predicated. A category is a class of 
attributes. 

§ 170. The Reasoning is derivative 
3. The reasoning, from a judgment, but appears still in 



1 82 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

the form of a judgment and may be expressed in 
language by a proposition ; while a concept is ex- 
pressed in a grammatical noun. It may be defined 
as a derived judgment. 

The derivation may consist in a change of the 
form or in a change of the matter, of the primitive 
judgment. 

The derivation may be by a single step as in 
immediate reasonings ; or by two or more steps as 
in mediate reasonings. 

It is the province of logic to unfold the laws of 
thouo-ht and the difterent forms of valid thou2:ht, 
distinguishing the different kinds, with their several 
characteristics. 

Returning now to the type-form of a primitive 
thought — of a judgment, as tJie s range is round — - 
we observe that the attribute round is contained 
within the subject, the orange. But there are attri- 
butes which lie without the subject. We may at- 
tribute to the orange that it is in the hand that 
presents it to us, that it is nozv before me ; that it is 
one of a niLmber, and the like. Some attributes 
accordingly are intrinsic, others extrinsic to the 
subjects ; obviously there can be no other attributes 
conceivable. 

§ 171. All attributes are accordingly dis- 
Attributes. tinguishcd iuto two classes, one Intrin- 
sic, Xh^ other Extrinsic, to the subject. 
Intrinsic Attributes are those which 
I. Intrinsic. lie wliolly withiu the subject and may 
be thought when that alone is presented 
to the mind ; as round, yellozu, sweet, jnicy. 



THOUGHT. 183 

Extrinsic Attributes are those which 
2. Extrinsic. lie without the subject and are thought 

only when something besides the sub- 
ject is presented to the mind ; as in the hand, pre- 
sent^ one of a class. 

§ 172. Intrinsic Attributes are of 
Attributes of quai- two SDCcics ; Qnalities and Actions; 

ity and of action. ^ , 

the former regarding the subject as at 
rest, as simply being ; the latter regarding it as an 
activity, as acting. Round, yellozv, thus are attri- 
butes of quality ; nourishing^ coolin^^ fermenting, 
are attributes of action. The latter imply, while the 
former do not imply, an object. 

§ 173. Intrinsic Attributes, also called 
ProDerties. Properties, moreover, are distinguished 

into the two species of Essential and 
Accidental, the former being necessary to the being 
of the subject ; the latter not thus necessary. 
Round, yellozv, or at least some attributes of figure 
and of color, are essential to the orange ; specked, 
decaying, are not thus essential. 

§ 174. Extrinsic Attributes are distrib- 
Attributes of re- ntcd into the spccics of attributes of 

lation and con- . ^ r ^ 

dition. Relation and attributes of Condition. 

One of a class, lai'ger than the others, 
are attributes of x^\2X\QVi\ present, now, are attri- 
butes of condition. 



184 THE INTELLIGENCE. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE CATEGORIES OF THOUGHT. 

§ 175. By a Category is understood, as 
^kmed"^^''* before stated, § 169, a class of attri- 
butes, as distinguished from a class of 
things or of subjects. In the study of the nature of 
thought it is very desirable to ascertain the attri- 
butes that are proper to thought and are presented 
to our minds in every instance of thought. To in- 
spect any such instance of thought, that is, to bring 
before our intuition the attributes that are presented 
when we think, and that may be discerned in every 
thought, to note the attributes thus presented, to 
group them into classes, is one of the leading neces- 
sities in a complete psychology. 

To collect these attributes into classes and thus 
frame a system of the categories of thought, has been 
from the earliest days of philosophy a zealous labor 
of the ablest thinkers. We have as the results of 
these labors the Hindoo system of categories, the 
system of Aristotle, as well as modern systems, 
among which ranks most conspicuous that of Kant. 
These systems are certainly but approximations to 
an ideal perfection and have been, each in its turn, 



THE CATEGORIES OF THOUGHT. 1 85 

subjected to severe criticism. They have been con- 
demned and reprobated especially, as was to be ex- 
pected they would be, by men who had not care- 
fully ascertained what a category as a class of at- 
tributes means. Mr. J. S. Mill, thus, in his work on 
Logic, strangely supposing that the categories were 
attempted " enunciations of existences," substitutes 
for the categories of Aristotle which he styles an 
*' abortive classification of existences " — a system 
that confounds things, subjects, and attributes. 
His enumeration is, (i) Feelings; (2) Minds; (3) 
Bodies ; and (4) Successions and Co-existences, 
Likenesses and Unlikenesses ; a remarkable jumble 
of heterogeneous things as incomplete as confused, 
and altogether illogical and unsatisfactory. A sys- 
tem of categories of thought is simply a systematic 
collection of the attributes pertaining to thought. 
In forming it we are to proceed just as we would in 
forming a system of the attributes belonging to ex- 
ternal bodies. In this latter case we take some 
particular body — an orange — and note the attributes 
presented to our perception and gather these into 
classes, as in Hamilton's enumeration of extension, 
incompTessibility, mobility, sitimtion, attraction, rcpitl- 
sio7t, inertia ; sejise, impression. Just in an analogous 
v/ay we take a thought in its simplest form and note 
what attributes are presented to our intuition. The 
enumeration which we subjoin may not be complete ; 
it would be presumptuous to claim such perfection 
of investigation in this stage of psychological 
science. But we may in our measure do a satis- 
factory work for ourselves if we proceed as far 



1 86 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

as our ability will allow, carefully and in scientific 
method. 

§ I ^6. Reverting" to our type-form of a primitive 
thought — the ora7tge is round — we recall its origin 
in a perception in which an object, single and 
simple, was apprehended by the mind, being pre- 
sented to it through the external sense. The per- 
ception was an incomplete stage of intelligence. 
The mind pressed on to a completed stage. The 
transition might be immediate, so that the thought 
should be simultaneous with the perception. It 
might, however, be prolonged more or less, or, in- 
deed, possibly be broken off so as to be followed by 
no proper thought. The completed stage of- intel- 
ligence gave us its discursive form in the judgment, 
the primitive form of thought ; the essential char- 
acteristic of which, distinguishing it from the per- 
ception, was found to be that the single object in 
the perception was now discriminated into the two- 
fold form of subject and attribute which, however, 
the mind still kept as one and identical — the sub- 
ject not being a different reality from the attri- 
butes, but the same. The copula, being the 
identifying element, is thus essential to all thought 
and must characterize every valid derivative of 
thought. As the mind thus in reflection turns in 
thought upon what is given as one in the perception, 
it may recognize a second attribute or a third, in fact 
an indefinite number of attributes — intrinsic, as yel- 
low, juicy, decaying, or extrinsic, ^?> present, selected 
from a number, and the like, essential or accidental. 
Such are attributes pertaining to the object pre- 



THE CATEGORIES OF THOUGHT. 1 8/ 

sented to the mind in the perception and origina- 
ting in that. But there is another more important 
class of attributes whicli originate in the thought 
itself and pertain to thought as such and therefore 
may be recognized in any judgment whatever. 
These we now proceed to enumerate and unfold. 

§ 177. I. Category OF IDENTITY. In 
Its origin. the first placc, in reflecting on the judg- 

ment, the orange is round, we recognize 
the truth that as the copula, which identifies the 
subject and the attribute, is of the very essence of 
this judgment and of every judgment, and con- 
sequently of all thought or completed knowledge ; 
everything of which we can think must admit this 
identification. There is given in this, as in every 
judgment, this attribute of identity, pertaining to 
whatever may be thought by the human mind, as 
every such object must, in order to be thought, pre- 
sent a subject that can be identified with an at- 
tribute or be differenced from it. 

We have thus what is called the cate- 
An intuition, gory of identity — the most fundamental 
of all the categories of pure thought. It 
will be remarked in regard to it, first, that it is an in- 
tuition. It is not a perception ; it does not belong 
to the sensation ; it does not belong to the external 
object — the orange. It is presented to us by the 
act of the intehigence in its completed form of a 
judgment. It is an intuition. 

Next, it is a necessary attribute, in the 

Necessary. scnse that it is impossible to think at 

all without having this attribute pres- 



1 88 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

ent in the thought, although seldom perhaps 
brought out into distinct consciousness. It is as 
necessary to thought as form and color to the 
orange, or to any visible object. It is in truth the 
essential characteristic of thought. 

Further, it is universal, for no thought is ever ex- 
perienced without it. 

Still further, it is presented to the mind in a way 
precisely analogous to that in which the form and 
the color of the orange are presented. It is in the 
thought, and the mind takes notice of 
How presented, it ; as the form is in the orange and 
the mind takes notice of it. We call 
this notion of the attribute in the one case an intui- 
tion, in the other a perception, simply to distinguish 
the different sources from which they come. The 
intuition comes from the thought within ; the per- 
ception from the orange without. There is no mys- 
tery about the one more than about the other. The 
one is the attribute of an inner experience, the 
other of an outer object, both being founded in the 
nature of objects — the nature of mind and body. 
It is not to be assumed as if it had no ground. 
Thought itself is such that it has this attribute ; as 
the orange is such that it has this round form. It 
misleads in regard to its nature to speak of identity 
as a native cognition of the mind, for it is no more 
so than figure in a visible object is a native cogni- 
tion ; or to speak of it as an original picture, inde- 
pendent in its rise in the mind of actual experience ; 
or as a regulative law in any other sense than that 
every essential attribute of an object is a regulative 



THE CATEGORIES OF THOUGHT. 1 89 

law of that object. Identity is a regulative law 
of thought, simply because it is an essential at- 
tribute of thought — of thought as an actual ex- 
perience, as a mental phenomenon. 

The opposite of identity is difference. 
Its opposite. The mind separates a subject from a 

supposed attribute as well as unites ; it 
denies as well as affirms. These are the two al- 
ternative forms of thought — identifying and differ- 
encing ; affirming and denying. We have accord- 
ingly two kinds of judgments, affirmative and neg- 
ative. 

Identity is total or partial. It is total 
Total or partial, when the subjcct and the attribute 

which are identified in the judgment 
are in all respects one and the same, as I ^ I, or 
the self is the self . It is partial when the subject 
is only in part, in some respects but not in all, the 
same as the attribute. Most actual judgments are 
partially identical. In the judgment, the orange is 
round, the subject orange is identified only in re- 
spect to its form as round — is identified with but 
one of its manifold attributes. 

Partial identity is denoted by the terms likeness, 
similarity, resemblance. These terms denote at- 
tributes, and as such ever imply subjects and are 
properly applicable only to subjects, whether origin- 
al subjects or attributes, treated as subjects. We 
say : An orange is like a peach in its form ; we do 
not say, round is peach-like ; while we might say the 
roundness is peach-like. Similarity and resemblance 
as the etymology indicates, is but partial sameness 



190 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

or partial identity — sameness in some respects, not 
in all. 

We have thus divers modifications of this attri- 
bute of identity. Besides those that have been 
mentioned there are manifold other intrinsic 
modifications, and of the extrinsic modifications, 
or those which are relative to the objects of 
thought or to other mental phenomena, there is 
obviously an indefinite number. All these modifi- 
cations are grouped together under the one class 
and known by the name of the category of identity. 
§ 178. 2. Category OF QUANTITY. It 
Origin. is obvious f rom an inspection of our typ- 

ical judgment, the orange is rotind, 
that there is presented to us in a way perfectly 
analogous to that in which the attribute of round 
was presented to our perception and precisely as 
the attribute of identity was presented to our intui- 
tion, a second attribute of the judgment, which is 
designated under the name of Qnantity. There is 
the one subject and there is the one attribute ; these 
are different in a certain respect ; at least so far as 
this, that one is subject of which something is 
thought, and the other is attribute which is thought 
of the subject ; they are thus two, and yet they are 
one ; they are identical in a certain respect ; they 
are in fact identified in the very nature of the judg- 
ment. Two things — the two terms — are united. 
This property of being known as more than one in 
such a way that the several parts may be united in 
one whole, is the essential property of quantity. 

Such is the rise of the category of Quantity. It 



THE CATEGORIES OF THOUGHT. I9I 

originates in a judgment as the comuleted stage of 
the intelUgence by which an object given as single 
in the perception is recognized in tlie judgment as 
being in the. two-fold form of subject and attribute, 
which terms, constituting the matter of the judg- 
ment, are identified in it. Perception gives 
no quantity ; this is a property of thought. 
All thought is thus necessarily quantitative 
We may discern this attribute in every thought, 
every judgment, as we discern the attribute 
of round in the orange. It belongs to thought 
as thought ; it characterizes all thought. It per- 
tains, it should be observed, to the matter of 
thought — to the terms. 

It is not an original, independent principle, exist- 
ing by itself in the mind, or arising in the mind by 
any law of its nature, otherwise than as a simple at- 
tribute of thought. It is originally presented to us 
as an attribute of thought in the thought itself, pre- 
cisely as the attribute of roitnd is presented to us in 
the perception of the orange. 

On this simple notion of quantity as one of the 
essential attributes of thought, to be recognized in 
any complete form of thought, rest all the modifica- 
tions of quantity as diversely applied in the mani- 
fold processes of thought. 

But one form or derivation or applica- 
whoie and parts, tion of tliis attribute should be specific- 
ally mentioned— it is the relation of 
whole and parts. The two terms of a judgment are 
parts which are in the identification of the judgment 
brought into one whole. This relation of whole 



192 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

and parts has thus its origin in the judgment 
Whenever we think of an object as being a whole 
having parts, or as a part of a whole, we think such 
an object under the category of Quantity. 

§ 179. 3. Category of Modality. 
Origin from the A third attribute of thought is presented 

copula. , _ ^ ^ 

to US as we turn our view on the more 
essential element of thought — the copula — which 
identifies the two terms or parts of the matter — the 
subject and the attribute ; it is the attribute of 
modality. The copula, or the proper thinking ele- 
ment in the judgment, is in this respect dis- 
tinguished from the matter or the terms of the 
judgment. While it is our own, and is presented to 
our intuition by fhe mind itself, the matter of the 
judgment may be originally from a source foreign 
or extrinsic to the mind, and in every individual in- 
stance of thought is but a datum — something pre- 
sented to the thought. 

Now, as thought cannot deny itself, it must ever 
accept its own action. To thought itself the iden- 
tifying element necessitates its own affirmations or 
negations. The matter as foreign to thought, is in 
reference to our thinking, accidental, contingent. 
To question whether the subject and the attribute 
are identified in valid thought is absurdity itself. 
The skeptic who questions this destroys the very 
foundation of all thought, of all opinion, of all be- 
lief, of all knowledge ; and has no right to think, 
much less to question the thoughts of others. 

Thus we have given in the very nature of a judg- 
ment the distinction of the necessary in thought 



THE CATEGORIES OF THOUGHT. I93 

from the contingent. But knowledge characterized 
in this respect as necessary or contingent, is there- 
by brought under the general category of modality ; 
just as an orange characterized as round comes un- 
der the general attribute of form. 

The leading forms in which this attribute appears 
are such as possible and impossible ; probable and im- 
probable ; necessary and contingent. 

As in the case of the other two categories, this 
one of modality is applied to objects external to the 
mind. Just so far as such objects approximate the 
nature of thought in this respect, they are regarded 
as necessary or the opposite. We speak thus of 
the necessities in nature as we speak of the neces- 
sities in truth or knowledge. 

Modality, it is to be remarked, in its different 
modifications of necessity and contingency, is not 
an independent, self-existing thing ; it is an attri- 
bute, and properly and originally an attribute of 
thought. It originates in that ; it is a necessary 
property of all thought, as all thought, all true 
knowledge, ever admits of being regarded as neces- 
sary or otherwise. 

§ 108. 4. Category of Properties 
Origin. AND RELATIONS. — It is manifest from 

from the very nature of a judgment in 
which an attribute is identified with its subject 
that there must be in every object which can be 
thought that which will admit of being attributed. 
Every such object must have this character that it 
is attributable. We cannot think the orange to 
be round unless the orange, so far as we think in 

13 



Desisf nation. 



194 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

regard to it, so far as an object of thought, has this 
character of being attributable ; of allowing in 
other words some kind of an attribution in relation 
to it. 

All thought thus necessarily involves this general 
attribute of attribiUableness, and ever reveals or 
presents it to our intuition when properly turned 
towards it. But as we have found all attributes to 
be intrinsic or extrinsic, § 170, 171, and so distin- 
guished into the two classes of intrinsic 
and extrinsic, otherwise known as pro- 
perties and relations, to avoid the cum- 
brousness of the more exact and fitting name of 
attributableness, this category is called the category 
of properties and relations. 

Just so far as an object of thought is regarded in 
this view of having attributes, that is, properties or 
relations, it comes under this category. 

We have distinguished properties into 
Classes. the two specics of properties of quality 

and of action, § 172. The ground of 
this distinction we are now enabled to indicate. 
We have recognized under the category of quantity 
the category of whole and part. 
' Intrinsic attributes are given us by the object 
itself as contained within it, and as subsisting in 
the object as a whole by itself irrespectively of all 
other objects. Extrinsic attributes are given us in 
the relations of the object as a part to the whole or 
to other parts. 

But further, intrinsic attributes may be thought 
as wholes by themselves or as parts. We have thus 



THE CATEGORIES OF THOUGHT. I95 

the two species of intrinsic attributes or properties : 
— Qualities, which are intrinsic attributes regarded 
without reference to other objects, as roitndjieavy ; 
and Attributes of Action, which are intrinsic attri- 
butes regarded in reference to other objects, as 
rolling, gravitating. 

Attributes of quaUty are generally and normally 
expressed in grammatical adjectives ; those of 
action are properly expressed in grammatical verbs 
combining the copula and in participles which by 
themselves do not combine the copula with the 
attribute. 

§ 181. 5. Category OF SUBSTANCE AND 
Origin. CAUSE. — In the Same way as we recog- 

nize in every instance of thought the 
category of attributableness embracing the two 
grand classes of attributes — properties and rela- 
tions, — we also recognize, by turning our view to the 
subject or first term of the judgment, the general 
attribute, belonging to every object of thought, of 
its being a subject. The judgment the orange is 
round presents to our intuition this attribute of its 
having a subject to which something is attributed. 

Inasmuch now as any subject in thought 
I. Substances, may havc an attribute either in the form 
of quality or of action, subjects are in 
this relation distinguished into two distinct classes :. 
(i.) Snbstances^-^\\\Q\i imply that as subjects they 
take attributes of quality ; and (2) Causes, which 
imply attributes of action. 

This general category of substance and cause 
accordingly embraces the two subordinate catego- 



196 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

ries, that of substance and that of cause. By some 
writers these categories, with perhaps more pro- 
priety but with a little more clumsiness, have been 
named substantiality and causality . 

They have manifold modifications all embraced 
under the general category. 

It should be remarked that the terms substance 
and cause are here used only as pertaining to 
thought. If we assume merely the fact of a judg- 
ment, no matter how it came to be, whether 
occasioned by the presence of some external object 
affecting our sensual organism, or by some inner 
condition of our bodies, or even by a direct touch 
of the creative spirit moving on our spiritual nature 
directly and through no sensuous medium, — if we 
assume simply the experience of a judgment, this 
category of substance and cause necessarily appears. 
As certainly as there is a subject in every judgment, 
just as certainly is there this attribute belonging to 
every object of thought, that it admits of being 
thought as a subject and either as substance or 
cause. The question of the existence of an outer 
world, of any thing truly actual or real except 
simply the existence of the judgment, is not in- 
volved at all in the admission that this category is 
given in every thought. In truth, as a category, 
that is, a 'collection of attributes, the idea of exist- 
ences is excluded. Not therefore here by substance 
and cause as names of a category are we to under- 
stand any actual entity, any real existence. 

§ 181. 6. Categories of the true, 

Origin. ^jjg BEAUTIFUL, AND THE GOOD. We 



THE CATEGORIES OF THOUGHT. IQ/ 

have, in this attempt to evolve the categories or 
classified attributes of thought, from the primi- 
tive form of thought, the judgment, assumed this 
judgment as a phenomenon, as an experience. 
We have accordingly assumed that the experience 
arose from some object being presented, which 
although single in itself when presented, the mind 
in thinking resolved at once into the twofold 
aspect of a subject and attribute. We have given 
us accordingly the two stages of mental experience 
which we have before recognized, the presentative 
and the reflective. Thought therefore necessarily 
supposes these stages ; and so far as the object is 
regarded as simply presented before being properly 
thought, the object is recognized still as one and 
simple and the mind apprehends it merely in its 
form. In other words, as has been before explained 
at length, it regards the object in so far as it is sus- 
ceptible of being presented to a mind, as beaittiftd. 

In the second or completed stage of knowledge 
in the judgment, moreover, the single object is re- 
solved into the two elements of subject and attri- 
bute, which yet are identified in the judgment as 
one. The object thus regarded, no longer in its 
mere form, but in its essence as something that has 
attributes, is regarded as tnte. 

Still further, the object has come to us ; has 
presented itself to us ; it has moved our sensibility ; 
it has prompted our thought. In this view of it, it 
is no longer a mere form, no longer a mere essence 
having congruous attributes, it is a power upon us ; 
and so far as it is regarded as thus moving us in 



198 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

harmony with our own susceptible and active 
nature, it is good to us. Looking thus at the effect 
of the object upon us we necessarily bring it under 
the category of tJie good. 

It is thus apparent that every object which can 
become the matter of a judgment must in the dif- 
ferent phases in which it is regarded, come respect- 
ively under each of these categories of the beautiful, 
the true, and the good. 



EXISTENCES. 1 99 



CHAPTER VI. 



EXISTENCES. 



182. If we have given to us a thought 

of the _ 

notion. 



Origin of the — ^ judgment, as that this orange is 



round — we have found that there are 
presented to our intuition, if at least applied to it, 
by the very necessities of our thinking nature, by the 
necessities of thought itself as a completed act of 
intelligence, certain attributes, which we have in the 
preceding chapter gathered up into classes called 
the categories of thought. These attributes which 
thus necessarily belong to all thought, must belong 
to it if thought were nothing more than a mere sup- 
position. But we are here to view thought as a 
fact. This fact is presented to our intuition as the 
orange to our perception. We know that we think, 
if we know anything. This fact of intuition, one 
and simple in itself, as we proceed to think of it, 
we recognize as a subject with attributes. These at- 
tributes, so far as essential, we have enumerated 
and grouped under the categories. But this think- 
ing is itself an attribute. It is an action and neces- 
sarily implies a subject to which the attribute 



200 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

belongs. We might construct a system of subjects 
of thought corresponding to these several attributes ; 
that is, we might view these attributes as reflected 
to us from the light of their respective subjects, as 
in sJiining we recognize souiething that shines — a 
Sun. The fact of thinking would thus be distin- 
guished into as many kinds of thought-subjects as 
there are of thought-attributes. But this would be 
useless abstraction. Language would fail us ; for 
it does not fully distinguish the subject in a judg- 
ment from the substance or entity which in think- 
ing we had resolved into subject and attribute. Sub- 
ject and substance are, as we have found, used to 
some extent at least, interchangeably. It may be 
of importance, however, in unfolding the full nature 
of the intelhgence in its completed stage, that of 
thought, to trace out under the general leading of 
the categories the classes of substances which con- 
stitute the objects of our thought. 

We shall denominate these existences, meaning by 
the term the objective realities which are presented 
to our intelligence, so far as they can be generalized 
under the ascertained categories of thought. By 
the term is meant, then, not the subject in a judg- 
ment, but the object which the judging act resolves 
into a subject with attributes. 

The term entity is nearly or quite sy- 
Entity. nonymous with Existence in this sense 

of an object. 

The term Being has been used to denote 
Being. the objcct of thought as a realit}^ or exist- 

ence. But this term has several differ- 



EXISTENCES. 201 

ent meanings, the confusion of which in metaphysi- 
cal discussions has been probably more prolific of 
serious error than has come from any other single 
source. In the first place, being is used to denote 
the mere relation between subject and attribute. 
In the judgment tJie 07'ange is roiLiid, the word is 
denotes only the relation of agreement or identity 
between the subject orange and the attribute round. 
It imports of itself nothing of objective reality, yet 
nothing hardly is more common in metaphysical 
writings than the confounding of this mere subjective 
being, this mere being of thought, this being which 
is nothing more than the identification of the terms 
of a judgment, with actual existence. The reason- 
ings of even so acute a thinker as Sir William 
Hamilton are not unfrequently vitiated by this 
fallacy. He over and over again deduces objective 
reality from the mere copula ; as when, for in- 
stance, he makes the cogito of the famous enthy- 
memeof Descartes : cogito, ergo sum, to mean I exist 
thinking. Whole systems of speculation rest on 
this fata] confusion of the being of thought with the 
being of objective reality. 

In the next place the term being, like existence, is 
used both as a- subject-word and as an attribute- 
word. Hence in abstract discussions arises a 
liability to confusion and consequent error. 

Fichte assumes at the start an existence — 
the ego — ; and assuming it as absolute, pre- 
sents it as becoming known to itself by being 
limited or checked in its primitive absolute 
and so unconscious flow. That which thus checks 

9* 



202 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

its unconscious flow must be in some sense 
other than itself — must be a true non-ego. But this 
assumption of an absokite ego has no foundation 
and hence no warrant, except simply that it may 
help to explain the phenomena of thought. In as- 
suming a judgment, on the contrary, we assume 
an unquestioned experience ; and we have a solid 
and valid foundation for the entire superstructure 
of mental phenomena. 

Assuming, accordingly, a judgment, we assume 
necessarily with this as essential to every judgment 
an attribute and with the attribute a subject, and 
with these, the object which is recognized in the 
judgment under the form of a subject with attribute. 
If the judgment be a reality, then the judging, the 
identifying of the subject with the attribute is a 
reality, for this is of the essence of the judgment. 
And this judging is an action, that is, as we 
have found, an attribute of a subject, which attri- 
bute and subject imply a substance. Something 
that judges is, therefore, given in the very fact of 
judging ; — that is, an existence which is real, if the 
judgment be a reality ; an existence too which is 
objective, for it is the object judged without which 
the judgment could not be. A real objective exist- 
ence is thus given in the reality of any judgment, 
i The famous enthymeme of Descartes : eogito, ergo 
snni, taken impersonally as it should be in this sense — 
there is thinking, therefore there is existence — is ir- 
refutably sound and valid. The premise is a real- 
ity — there is thinking. This is assumed. He who 
denies the premise, that is, he who denies that 



EXISTENCES. 203 

thinking is real, and he only, can avoid the conclu- 
sion that there is real existence. He who maintains 
that thought is a mere phantom, or that it is a mere 
flux with nothing that flows, may consistently deny 
the conclusion that the fact of thinking, proves a 
thinker, and, at the sanie time, also an object 
thought. But let it be granted that there is real 
thinking and the proof of objective existence is be- 
yond question. 

Further, the fact of thinking proves a plurality of 
existences. For, as we have seen, if there is think- 
ing, there is both an existence that thinks, and also 
an existence that is thought. For the mind cannot 
make itself an object to itself, until it reveals itself 
by some action ; and such action, as we have before 
seen, must in the case of a finite mind, be oc- 
casioned by some object external to itself. To this 
the category of Quantity at once leads us ; and in 
the expanded form of whole and part, giving the 
category of attributes of Relation, it conducts us 
necessarily to an indefinite number of- existences, 
inasmuch as each part, which can be one term in a 
relation, must be recognized as one object of itself. 

Of this indefinite plurality of existences we now 
proceed to enumerate the more fundamentally 
generic classes. 

§ 183. First, as already shown, we have 
Reality of mind, given US in the fact of thought a think- 
ing existence — a mind or spirit. 
§ 184. Secondly, as already seen, we 
Of motion. have also given us in the very fact of 
thought an object external to the think- 



204 



THE INTELLIGENCE. 



ing mind- — a not-self as contrasted with the mind — 
the self. Of the distinctive nature of this existence 
external to mind, this not-self, thought in itself is in- 
competent to testify farther than this, that it must 
be capable of communicating itself to the self. If, 
however, we admit together with the thought, the 
fact of a sensibility as the medium through which 
external things introduce themselves to our minds, 
then we necessarily conceive of all such communi- 
cating objects as having form or body in its largest 
import, embracing immaterial as well as material 
body. If, further, we admit a sensuous or bodily 
organism as the medium through which our minds 
apprehend external objects, we come to the class of 
existences termed ^naterial. In this way we reach 
the truth that there is matter distinct from mind, 
and that this matter serves as a body to idea for in- 
ter-communication between minds. 

§ 185. Thirdly, inasmuch as all objects 
The universe, presented to any one mind must be so re- 
lated to one another as to be thought by 
a single mind, and so capable of being aggregated to- 
gether, we come, under the category of whole and 
parts or that of relation, to the notion of an exist- 
ence, that is a whole, embracing as its parts all the 
objects of which we think — a proper universe. 

§ 186. Fourthly, placing ourselves 
Substance and ^^^^^^ ^^^ \^2.A oi the Category of sub- 
stance and cause, and admitting the re- 
ality of the objects of thought, we are conducted 
directly to those classes of existences called re- 
spectively substance and cause — a substance 



EXISTENCES. 205 

being an existence thought under the attribute 
of Quality ; a cause being an existence thought 
under the attribute of Action. Every existence is 
both a substance and a cause ; but as we think any 
existence under the one or the other of these cate- 
gories it becomes to our thought a substance or a 
cause. The sun thought as heavy, is a substance ; 
thought as atti'acting, is a cause. An orange is a 
substance when regarded as juicy ; it is a cause, 
when regarded as i^e freshing. 

§ 177. Fifthly, under the category of 
Space and time. Condition wc think an attribute in ref- 
erence to the whole vrithout refen^nce 
to its having parts ; while under the category of 
Relation we think an attribute to the whole as hav- 
ing parts. As this latter category has conducted 
us to the collective existence which we call the uni- 
verse, in which terra we have distinct reference to 
the parts which make up the whole, so the former 
category, that of Condition, directly conducts us to 
a whole without reference to parts, that is objects 
in it and constituting it. Such a whole may be 
-thought cby us either under the category of Quality 
when we have the idea of Space, or under the cate- 
gory of Action when we have the idea of Time. 

In regard to these ideas of Space and Time, their 
nature and origin, it would be presumptuous to dog- 
matize in the present stage of metaphysical science. 
Philosophers of the highest rank insist that they are 
mere forms of human thought — schemes of the 
human understanding ; while others of equal rank, 
as do the mass of men, hold them to be real exist- 



206 THE INTELLIGENCE. 

ences. We may safely advance the following prop- 
ositions in regard to their nature and origin : 

1. The ideas of Space and Time are not objects 
of perception. They are given only to our intui- 
tion in the fact of thought. 

2. The mind is n-aturally pointed to them under 
the category of condition, which we have found to 
be a necessary attribute of thought. 

3. The category of condition is immediately 
grounded on the objects of thought — on the terms 
or matter of a judgment — not on the copula ele- 
ment. They have therefore not a pure subjective, 
but a proper objective nature. 

4. Admitting that thought is real and its objects 
real, we cannot resist the conclusion that the cate- 
gory of condition partakes of that reality — is a class 
of real attributes, and consequently that the class 
of subjects or substances corresponding to this cate- 
gory of attributes is, in some true and proper sense, 
also real. 

5. Space is not mere extension, for extension is 
an attribute of a part ; whereas space implies in its 
very nature a whole. In the same way, Time is not 
mere succession, for this respects parts ; whereas 
Space and Time are given us in thought as under 
the category of condition, which regards wholes ir- 
respectively of their parts. 

6. Space and time are shown in their very origin 
to be unlimited. As presented to our mind under 
the category of condition, they are as unlimited as 
the universe of thought. All those reasonings, 
therefore, which imply limitations in the nature of 



EXISTENCES. 20/ 

space or time lead at once to contradiction and ab- 
surdity. 

Human thought as the function of a finite mind 
is indeed limited ; it cannot grasp the universe. 
But this imports no limitation to the universe itself ; 
for even to finite thought there can be no boun- 
dary, no limit assigned in the universe of objects 
from beyond which no object can be presented. 
Just so, space and time are unlimited, although the 
ideas of space and time originate in finite thought, 
because no line can be drawn beyond which we can 
think no space ; none beyond which either in the 
past or in the future we can think no time. 



208 THE INTELIGENCE. 



CHAPTER VII. 

INTELLECTUAL APPREHENSION AND REPRESEN- 
TATION. 

Twofold modi- § ^^^- The intelligence is modified in 
fication ofintei- a two fold wav in its relations to the 

Iigence m re- 
spect to sensi- Sensibility, (i) as receiving truth, and (2) 

as expressing truth. The intelligence is 
thus both a capacity of knowledge and also a faculty 
of knowledge, just as the sensibility is passive as 
recipient of form, and also active as productive of 
form. In its function as a capacity, the action of 
the intelligence is denominated Apprehension; in 
its function as a faculty, it is denominated Repre- 
sentation. 

§ 189. Intellectual apprehension 
T. Apprehension, is accordingly defined as the function of 
the mind in receiving the true. 

It includes Perception, Intuition, Thought or 
Conception, in so far as they are modes of receiv- 
ing or acquiring knowledge. They are the differ- 
ent kinds of apprehension distinguished in reference 
to the two sources of knowledge, external and in- 
ternal, and the two stages of knowledge, introduc- 
tory and complete. 

It is distinguished as coniprehejisive when the 



APPREHENSION AND REPRESENTATION. 209 

grounds of the truth are also apprehended in con- 
nection with the truth itself. 

It is related to the sensibility on its passive side. 
It is in truth, as before intimated, the intelligence 
side of the single mental state which, when re- 
garded on the side of the sensibility, is named under 
the forms of that function. Perception, thus, is but 
the intelligence side of sensation. 

This mental act or state, is modified indefinitely 
in respect to the relative degrees in which the sen- 
sibility and the intelligence appear in it. The one 
or the other may greatly predominate in different 
cases. Yet even when the sensibility is predomin- 
ant, we may direct our attention rather to the in- 
tellectual side, and so make it the really predomin- 
ant element to our view, and then we speak of the 
act as apprehension and not as impression or affec- 
tion, or other term denoting properly a form of the 
sensibility. 

§ 190. Intellectual Representa- 

2^ Representa- ^^^^^ -^ j^f^^gd aS the fuUCtioU of the 

mind in presenting the true. 

It is distinguished as Demonstratio7i, in the larger 
sense, when the grounds of the truth are presented 
with the truth itself. 

It is related to the active side of the sensibihty, 
the imagination proper. It differs from Philoso- 
phical Imagination only in this, that it points to the 
intelligence side of the act or state, while the latter 
term points to the imagination side. § 143. 

The two functions vary indefinitely in their rela- 
tive degrees of predominance in different cases. 
14 



2IO THE INTELLIGENCE. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



CURIOSITY AND ATTENTION. 

§ 191. The Intelligence is modified in 
tToT^of kitdit'''' respect to the will in atwofold way : (i) 
gence in respect as determined in its activity only by 

to will. . , . J J J 

the instincts of mind as an essentially 
active nature, in curiosity ; and (2) as positively 
determined by the will proper, in attention. 

§ 102. By Curiosity is meant, the in- 

I. Curiosity. .. t. , ^ ,,'. , 

stmctive desire 01 knowledge m the 
human mind. 

The mind, so far as active, seeks for truth or 
knowledge. This feature particularly characterizes 
it in its infancy. All objects of knowledge are alike 
attractive to it, for its selecting power is then feeble, 
and habit, taste, or disposition is undeveloped. In 
its progress, this instinct, unless overborne in in- 
dolence or indulgence, acquires ever additional 
strength. If rightly directed and cultivated, it ulti- 
mately makes the intellectual giant in knowledge. 
With advancing development, it turns more and 
more to specific fields of truth and acquires distinc- 
tion in particular branches of knowledge. 



CURIOSITY AND ATTENTION. . 211 

§ 193. By Attention is meant the vol- 
2. Attention. uiitary determination of the intelligence 
to objects of knowledge. 

Curiosity passes into attention in the natural 
growth of mind as instinct passes into power of 
will : and the mind acquires in its growth more and 
more entire and absolute control over its own acts 
and states. The desire of knowledge — curiosity — at 
the same time strengthens in itself, and also " spends 
itself in will." Attention is susceptible of indefinite 
development. It is very weak in beginning study. 
The tyro in knowledge finds it hard to keep his 
thought steadily on any subject of study. The 
power of attention grows as he advances. In its 
higher degrees it marks the intellectual genius ; for 
nothing more characterizes the man of genius than 
the power of fixed attention. 

Attention is conscious or unconscious. At first, 
it is necessary that the mind with deliberate, con- 
scious intention, bend itself to its work, exclude dis- 
tracting objects, and fasten its regard on the single 
subject of its study. Repeated effort in this con- 
scious attention passes into habit ; and the mind 
holds on in its attentive study, conscious of no par- 
ticular energy of the will. 

Attention, as applied to external objects, is 
known as Observation ; as applied to matters of our 
own consciousness, it is designated Reflection. 

Observation, it should be remarked, includes 
both stages of cognition — perception and judgment ; 
as also reflection includes both intuition and judg- 
ment. 



212 THE WILL. 



BOOK IV. 



THE WILL. 



CHAPTER I. 

ITS NATURE AND MODIFICATIONS. 

§ 194. The Will is the mind's faadty 

Will defined. ofchoosillg. 

This faculty is otherwise known as the 

Synonyms. Voluntary Power, the Orectic Faculty, 

the Conative Power, the Moral Power, 

the Power of Choice, the Free Will, the Faculty of 

Freedom. 

Its product is called a choice ; also, a volition. 

It is variously modified, as first, in re- 
Fourfold modi- lation to its object. As essentially 

ncation. _ _ •' -' 

active it ever regards an object in its 
action. This object is known under the name of 
Motive. 

Secondly, in relation to its stages, as (i) incom- 
plete and prelusive, and (2) as complete. 



ITS NATURE AND MODIFICATIONS. 213 

Thirdly, in relation to its own growth and its 
special subordinations. 

Fourthly, in relation to the other mental func- 
tions. 

We will proceed in the order of this enumera- 
tion to speak of these several classes of modifica- 
tions, after having first presented the intrinsic 
attributes of will as given in experience. 



214 THE WILL. 



CHAPTER II. 



CHOICE, 



§ 195. It will not be difficult to identify 
Choice exempli- ^n act of wiU — a choice, a volition — and 

fied. 

to distinguish it from other acts or states 
of mind. When an orange is presented to me and 
it impresses my sense, I am only passively affected ; 
I have a feeling. When I recognize it as having 
certain attributes, so that I can say it is round, it is 
sweet, my intellectual activity is engaged ; I have a 
knowledge — a cognition, of the object. But I may, 
besides feeling and knowing the object, put forth an 
effort in reference to it ; as, for instance, to take 
it. I now exert my will ; I have a choice, a volition." 
The feeling and the knowledge have preceded my 
willing to take it ; I may choose the orange in full 
intelligence of it and of what I am doing and also in 
expectant feeling or desire ; but the act of taking is 
beyond, and, in our thought at least, distinguishable 
both from the feeling and the knowledge. The act 
of taking is somewhat complex, embracing some- 
thing more than a mere choice. But we cannot fail 



CHOICE. 215 

to recognize in this complex act something more 
than a feeling or a knowledge ; and the characteristic 
element in the act is a choice or volition. 

The act of taking embraces in fact two very dis- 
tinguishable elements. There is, first, the deter- 
mination, the decision, the purpose, to take the 
orange ; and there is, besides, the putting forth of 
the hand to take it. The first of these elements 
may be a completed act of will, a full choice or 
volition, as the blossom may be complete, although 
followed by no fruit. It might exist even although 
it were followed by no reaching forth of the hand ; 
although at the instant of determining to take the 
orange, all the bodily functions were paralyzed. 
This second act, putting forth the hand, is simply 
executive of the previous choice; it is called, in 
distinction, an exectUive volition. 

§ 196. If now we carefully study this 
An act. determination of the will this choice, 

we at once recognize it as an act. It is 
the exertion of a power, of an active nature. In this 
it differs essentially from a feeling, a mere passive 
affection of the sensibility. All choice is essentially 
active. 

§ 197. Further, there is clearly an ap- 
Appropriative. propriatiug, a making of our own, at least 

in intent, of the object. 
Herein, a choice differs essentially from an 
act of the intelligence which possesses no such 
characteristic. In knowing, we only possess sub- 
jectively ; we have, we possess, a thought, a knowl- 
edge; we do not possess the object itself. But in a 



2l6 ' THE WILL. 

choice we possess, in intent at least, the object it- 
self. An act of will, thus, is ever appropriative. It 
ever seeks to appropriate its object and make it its 
own. 

§ 198. If now we take an instance of a 
Free. peculiar kind of choice, in fact, a true 

choice or act of will, full and entire ; — 
if, for instance, we suppose the orange, which we 
have determined to take, not to be our own, but 
another's, who refuses us his permission to take it, 
and if we still determine to take it by stealth or by 
violence, we discover in our choice another class of 
elements. We discover, first, that such a choice in- 
volves freedom . 

It is implied in this that the determination to take 
was not forced upon us by any insuperable neces- 
sity ; that it could be withheld as truly as be put 
forth. We never think of saying, however pressed, 
in self-vindication, that literally we could not help 
taking it ; — that we were necessitated to take it. 
We are conscious that in every such act we could 
take or forbear taking ; we could choose or refuse. 
Accordingly we acknowledge our responsibility for 
the act. To deny this element of freedom in many 
at least of our choices, is to belie the testimony of our 
own consciousness ; it is to contradict the universal 
testimony of intelligent and unbiased men ; it is to 
falsify the universal language of man, which in all 
its dialects comprises terms importing this freedom 
in choice. An act of will, choice, volition, in its 
highest and most proper form at least, involves then 
the element of freedom. 



CHOICE. 217 

§ 199. Another of the higher elements 
Personal. involved in proper choice is distinct 

pei'sonality. 
This element is indeed dimly given in feeling and 
in knowing. The phenomenon of feeling gives the 
distinction of an object impressing and a subject 
impressed ; as does that of knowing give the dis- 
tinction of object known and subject knowing. 
But this elementary and germinant distinction of 
personality rises into perfect outline and fulness 
in the free will, with an emphasis not allowable be- 
fore. The feeling and knowing subject in willing, 
recognizes and pronounces itself a true ego, a per- 
son distinct from other persons and things. 

But this free personality which has its seat in 
the will and constitutes the leading and charac- 
teristic element of that mental power, itself involves 
several distinguishable attributes of highest interest 
and importance. 

§ 200. First, free personality involves 
Sovereign. mental Sovereignty. 

The free will rules over the whole soul, 
holding the sensibility and the intelligence in strict 
subjection to itself and under its own control. 

This mental sovereignty residing in the personal 
free will of man is by no means absolute. The very 
finiteness of his being, which we have so fully 
recognized, forbids this idea. The domain of the 
will is limited both outwardly a'nd inwardly. It is 
limited in relation to the universe of beings and 
objects and activities without itself. Its utmost 
exertions soon reach a limit beyond which they 



2l8 THE WILL. 

cannot be pushed. It meets even within its own 
proper Hmited domain with checks and obstacles 
which it often finds itself unable to overbear or re- 
move. Man's universal experience leaves recorded 
in the consciousness the clear, salient characters of 
the dependence and finiteness of the human will. 

This sovereignty of the human will is limited, 
also, in relation to the mind itself of which it is the 
chief function. Its power does not reach so far as 
to reconstruct the mind or change its essential at- 
tributes. It cannot make the sensibility feel, the 
imagination form, the intelligence know or appre- 
hend or represent, otherwise than according to their 
own nature and laws. It cannot utterly destroy, if 
it may impair, the essential activity of the soul. It 
cannot prevent its feeling or its knowing. It can- 
not abrogate utterly its own freedom, or its own 
activity, however much it may weaken, corrupt, or 
hamper its proper function and character. 

But while thus dependent and limited in its 
sovereignty, the personal free will is a true 
sovereign. It rules the sensibility. While it cannot 
prevent feeling when an object is presented to the 
sensibility, and cannot remove from the reach of all 
objects that can impress i^, inasmuch as it cannot 
remove itself from the universe of being, — can- 
not altogether prevent feeling — it can yet direct 
feeling in various ways. It can, subject indeed to 
the power above it on which it depends, select the 
objects to which it will allow access to its sensi- 
bility. It can arrest feeling when going out to- 
wards any one object, and turn it towards another 



CHOICE. 219 

object The angry man expels his wrath by bring- 
ing before his sensibility an object of fear or of 
love ; by closing his eye on the provocation to 
anger and opening it on what excites compassion or 
gratitude or reverence. 

In a much higher sense does the free will rule 
the imagination or faculty of form. It prescribes 
the idea to be formed, as well as the matter in 
which to form it, and prompts and directs and sus- 
tains the forming act. It is indeed the soul of the 
imagination as an active nature. 

It bears a similar relation to the intelligence. It 
puts it in action; its elects the object ; it arrests or 
sustains the activity, 

_ The personal free will is thus sovereign in a true 
sense OA^er the sensibility and the intelligence. It 
is equally sovereign, as will be shown farther on, 
over its own subordinate movements and the so- 
called executive volitions. 

When the will acts in conjunction with the sen- 
sibility, the imagination, and the intelligence, in 
determining the objects of mental activity, — as in 
selecting objects of sense or forms of imagination, 
or kinds of attributes to be recognized, and especi- 
ally in determining upon the ends or aims towards 
which the mental activity is to be directed — we dis- 
cover a form of acting which has been ascribed to 
the so-called regulative faculty of the mind. It is, 
however, only a special modification of the function 
of willing by reason of the will's acting here through 
the imagination and in the light and thus under the 
lead of the intelligence. Man, as rational, has an 



220 TI-IE WILL. 

aim in his action ; the intelhgent selection of this 
aim and the direction of the mind's action in feel- 
ing, thought, or endeavor in reference to it, is the 
special characteristic of rationality- Just so far as 
fully and completely rational, therefore, the human 
soul is regulative. It has, accordingly, no special 
faculty endowed with this regulative function, to be 
classed co-ordinately with the imagination and the 
intelligence. 

§ 20 1. Secondly, the free personality in- 
Originative, volves the attribute of 07iginative?tess. 

In a sense in which it cannot be said 
of the sensibility and the intelligence, the will is a 
true originator. As part of a finite being, it is de- 
pendent on something external to itself for the 
object towards which its activity is to be directed. 
Free choice is in this low sense determined by its 
object as presented to it. There can be no choice 
where there is nothing to be chosen, as a man how- 
ever strong cannot lift a weight unless there be a 
weight to be lifted. In a sense analogous to that 
in which we say the weight determines the lifting, 
we may say perhaps that the object chosen deter- 
mines the choice. But there is a true sense in 
which the free will may be said to originate action. 
As the man determines whether he will lift the 
weight presented to him, so the free will ever de- 
termines its action in this or that direction to be or 
not to be. Freedom supposes ever an alterna- 
tive of choice. If there be but one object pre- 
sented there is the simple alternative of choice or 
refusal. If two or more objects are* presented only 



CHOICE. 221 

one of which can be taken, the alternative is con- 
pKcated ; the choice or refusal is combined with the 
act of electing or selecting the one or the other of 
the objects. We have in this case elective choice or 
refusal. Of the choice or refusal, whichever it be, and 
whether simple or elective, the free will is justly 
called the originator. 

The free will of man accordingly is so constituted 
by its creator as to be able to enter the' realm of mere 
nature as it flows on in its necessary flow and to 
originate new sequences beyond the power of mere 
nature. It does not originate new matter ; but it 
does originate new dispositions of matter. It does 
not originate new , measures of force ; but it does 
originate new directions of force, so that the 
sequences of nature are more or less changed from 
their undisturbed order. It does not originate in 
the sense of exerting new choices or purposes in 
other free beings ; but it does present to them new 
objects, new motives, new inspirations which may 
induce new purposes and character in them while 
still remaining in unchecked freedom. 

§ 202. Thirdly, the free personality in- 
Morai. volves the attribute of morality. 

By morality is expressed the relation 
of a being to right and duty. By virtue of' its 
freedom, of its freedom however as necessarily in- 
telligent and fecHng, the mind of man has rights 
which it exacts and duties which it owes. The 
mere animal has no proper rights, owes no proper 
duties. Right and duty are reciprocal ; what is my 
right, is another's duty ; what is my duty is another's 



222 THE WILL. 

right. The personal free will is the seat and centre 
of this relation of man to right and duty ; and is 
the source out of which it naturally and necessarily 
springs. 

§ 203. Fourthly, the free personality in- 
Responsible, volves the attribute of responsibility. 

The iiniteness of man's being and his 
dependence already in themselves foreshadow a 
power above him, by which he is limited and hem- 
med in, and on which he depends. But in his free 
activity this relation to a higher power shines out 
clearly and in definite outlines. As the exactor of 
rights and the subject of duties, he recognizes a law 
from without and from above which has allowed 
those exacted rights and has prescribed those owed 
duties. He recognizes a law written on the very 
centre of his being, his inmost personality, that at 
once imposes duties and gives rights. He recognizes 
also a power to sustain and to enforce this law, to 
which he expects all other beings from whom he 
has rights to be answerable, to which acccordingiy 
he feels they must expect him to be answerable, 
so far as he is bound in duty to them. The free 
personality thus makes man moral, as subject to a 
law which enforces dutv and sustains rio-hts. 

J o 

It is important to remark that this characteristic 
of free personality, involves at once the distinction 
of the personal moral self from other personal 
moral beings. It involves, also, the recognition of 
a personal free being who is the source of the law 
of duty and equally its administrator. The respon- 
sibility of a free person must be not to a thing, not 



to an attribute, but to a free person. This free 
person we call God, who v/rites the law of duty 
on the human soul and rules to sustain that law. 
The free personality is thus shown to be the seat 
and centre and source of religion, the base of the 
relation of man to God. 



224 THE \V[I,L. 



CHAPTER III. 



MOTIVE 



§ 204. By a motive is to be under- 
Motive defined, stood the object of the wiU in its action. 
In other words, it is that in respect to 
which the will acts. 

As essentially an active nature, the will must 
have an object in respect to which it is to act. This 
is that necessary incident of a finite and dependent 
being which we have all along been careful to 
recognize. This object must primitively of neces- 
sity be presented to it from without the mind. The 
action of the mind once awakened, however, may 
afterwards, revealing itself as it were to itself, pre- 
sent objects to itself in its function of willing. 
Motives are thus presented in intuitions as well as 
perceptions. 

In a certain low sense the motive may, as has 
been already stated, be said to determine the will. 
It is the object without which the action could not 
take place ; it also determines the direction in 
which the activity of the will goes forth. When I 
choose an orange, it so far determines the action of 



MOTIVE. 225 

my will as that except for its presence my will would 
not choose it and also that my will moves to- 
wards it and not towards any other object around 
me; it so far determines selection and choice. In 
this limited sense the motive may be truly said to 
determine the will ; it determines the possil:)ility of 
action since every volition must have an object, and 
also determines the particular direction in which 
the specific volition moves. In the sense that the 
motive is the immediate source of the volition, or 
that it so affects the will that it has no freedom in 
the case, or that it and not the mind puts forth the 
volition, it cannot truly be said that the motive de- 
termines the will. 

§ 205. An object can be such to the 
A good. will only in so far as it is good. In 

other words, a motive must be a good. 

Nothing but a good can be object to the will. 
The true, the beautiful, the good, we have seen, are 
three comprehensive ideas which include all possi- 
ble objects to the mind. But the true we have 
found to be exclusively object for the intelligence, 
and the beautiful for the sensibihty. There remains 
consequently nothing but the good as object for the 
will. 

That good must constitute the essential nature of 
a motive is to be presumed from the goodness of 
the creator. In the will is centered the entire free 
personal activity of the soul of man. That the le- 
gitimate exercise of this free activity should lead 
only to good follows necessarily from the assumed 
perfection of God. 

10* 15 



226 THE WILL. 

Experience and observation confirm this a priori 
conclusion. Even in willing contrary to the good 
law of our being, and so choosing evil, it is not the 
evil but some apprehended good in the evil that is 
the immediate and proper object of our choice. The 
very impersonation of evil, Milton makes to recog- 
nize the truth that good in some sense must be the 
object in all free action, as he makes him utter : 
*' Evil be then my good." A div-ded empire with 
Heaven was the good he proposed to himself and 
chose. Even the purest malice thus must propose 
some good to be attained with all the evil which it 
may intelligently or blindly bring to itself by its re- 
solve. There is a certain pleasure, a good, in re- 
venge and even in unprovoked cruelty. 

§ 206. A motive is a good to the mind, 
mh.d''^^'''^' to the whole soul, not properly and 
strictly to the will. 

The will is not properly the function of the mind 
by which it- receives or experiences good. The 
good which rinakes an object a motive is for a capa- 
city rather than a faculty ; and the will is essential- 
ly a faculty. Much less does the will perceive the 
good in a motive. This perception belongs to an- 
other function — the intelligence. In so far as the 
mind feels good or perceives good in a motive, it is 
by its functions of feeling and knowing, not by its 
function of willing. All that language which re- 
presents the will as passively affected by the motive, 
or as viewing the good in the motive, must be taken 
figuratively as intended only to mark the will as in 
the place of the whole soul, or must lead to con- 



MOTIVE. 227 

fusion and error. The will neither feels nor views. 
The true representation would be that when the 
mind by its function of feeling — the sensibility — 
feels the good in an object of volition, and by its 
function of perceiving — the intelligence — perceives 
or knows it, it may by its function of willing choose 
that object which as such felt and perceived good 
has become a motive to it. 

§ 207. Farther, a motive, in so far as 
inthemind. an objcct to the will, must be in the 

mind. 
Loosely speaking we may sometimes speak of 
the external object in itself as the motive ; but in 
strict truth a motive must ever be internal. The 
object must be a good feelingly and consciously ap- 
prehended by the mind before it can become a 
motive. In this sense is to be understood the doc- 
trine of ethical writers, that a motive includes the 
object, the intellectual apprehension of the object, 
and the desire or affection awakened by it. 

§ 208. Motives are conveniently dis- 
ciasses. tributcd, in respect to their original 

source, into two classes — external and 
mtemal. 

§ 209. An External motive is an ob- 
I. External. jcct of volitiou. Originating from without 

the mind. 
Thus an orange apprehended as good, and so 
presented to the mind as object of choice, may be 
called an external motive, because the immediate 
motive which is the orange as perceived and desired, 
or rather which is the desire of the orange as felt 



228 THE WILL. 

and perceived, originates in an object external to 
the mind. 

§210. An internal motive is an ob- 
2. Internal. jcct of volition Originating in the mind 
itself. 

The culture of one's own faculties presented as 
an object of choice is thus an internal motive. 

Not infrequently is the will addressed at the 
same time by a motive of each class, and the alter- 
native of choice lies between the two as opposed to 
each other. Sometimes the motive is complicated 
of both objects united in one, to be chosen or re- 
jected together. Sometimes the alternative of 
choice lies between two or more motives of the 
same class. 

In all cases, however, it is to be remembered that 
a motive as the object willed by the mind, lies 
wholly in the mind itself, whatever may be the fact 
in regard to its origin and history. It is ever a good 
as felt and perceived. The feeling may be an il- 
lusion, as when one suddenly awakened from sleep 
mistakes a shadow for a substance and moves to 
avoid or to assail it. The perception or the intui- 
tion or the full thought which presents the motive 
may be unreal, or more or less incongruous and in- 
correct ; it is not the proper function of the will to 
prove the reality or the truthfulness of its motives. 
This lies in the sphere of the intelligence. It is, 
to restate the important fact, it is the feeling and 
knowing mind that by its functions of willing 
chooses ; and that in choosing cannot but act with 
some measure of intelligence and of feeling. 



GROWTH AND SUBORDINATIONS OF WILL. 229 



CHAPTER IV. 

GROWTH AND SUBORDINATIONS OF WILL. 

§ 210. In the mind as an essentially 
facuity.^^^^^"^ active nature, the will appears as the 
ruling and directive activity. It rules 
the other functions of feeling and knowing, and 
also, as we shall see, in all subordinate volitions it 
rules itself. It rules the sensibility by selecting the 
objects which shall be allowed to address it ; by ar- 
resting the address of such objects after being once 
allowed ; by yielding the sensibility more or less to 
the influence of its objects. In the same way it 
rules the intelligence by choosing its objects, and 
by directing and intensifying the attention. It can- 
not wholly prevent the mind from feeling or from 
knowing, for the nature of the soul cannot be an- 
nihilated in any essential element except by the 
power that created it. But by the choice and 
change of objects, and by allowing the mental ac- 
tivity to be more or less engaged, it rules both feel- 
ing and knowledge. 

§211. As itself participating in an ac- 
Growth of will, tivc nature, the human will is suscepti- 
ble of growth. 



230 THE WILL. 

In infancy the will is feeble, bordering on im- 
potency. By exercise it becomes mighty through 
the principle of habit and growth. It is developed 
out of the instinctive nature of the mind. The 
transition from action which is merely instinctive, 
and as such necessitated by the will of the creator 
in creating it, is beyond the notice of our limited 
observation. We can as well observe the develop- 
ment of the bud from its germ. But by the very 
law of all mental life its action once prompted con- 
tinues on, and although in a sense changed in its 
direction or opposed by subsequent volitions, yet 
never can be truly said to lose its record in the 
mind's history. Each volition not only strengthens 
the willing mind itself, as legitimate exercise 
strengthens all living power, but each repetition of 
the volition in the same direction or towards the 
same object confirms the tendency to will in that 
direction. The will thus may acquire in time what 
in popular phrase we term indomitable determina- 
tion ; it is proof against all motive that finite power 
can bring to it. Weakness of will, in other words, 
imbecility of purpose, vacillation, irresoluteness, is 
the result of varying volitions, one moving in one 
direction, another in another. Strength of will, on 
the other hand, under the great law of growth 
comes directly and surely by multiplying volitions 
in the same direction, that is, towards the same or 
similar objects, and by shunning volitions looking in 
opposite directions. 

§ 212. The will, however, as one function 
Dependent. in a mind that is itself single, is so far 



GROWTH AND SUBORDINATIONS OF WILL. 23 1 

.dependent on the other functions of the sensibihty 
and the intelHgence. 

The objects of vohtion as motives, without which 
the will cannot act, come to it through these other 
functions. And further than this, its strensfth is 
also dependent on them. A feeble sense, a feeble 
understanding, is attended by a feeble volition. In 
the intensest feeling and the clearest knowledge, 
springs ever the most energetic will. 

The will grows thus by exercise, especially by ex- 
ercise in the same direction, and as attended by a 
lively sense and a clear and rich intelligence. 

§ 213. The will, as has been already 
Self-ruling. Stated, rulcs itself, in a certain sense, as 
well as the feeling and other functions 
of the mind. 

It does this by putting forth volitions which draw 
along, whether more positively by its own free 
prompting and sustaining, or more negatively by 
allowing and suffering other following volitions. 
Such originating volitions are called goveiiiing, or 
ruling, or pT-edominant volitions. The volitions 
which they respectively draw along after them, are 
called, in reference to the former, subordinate voli- 
tions. We determine, thus, for a single illustration, 
to take a journey. This determination of will is, in 
reference to the particular acts by which it is carried 
into execution, a governing or predominant volition. 
Every particular act of will put forth to carry out 
this original determination, of getting ready the 
baggage, procuring the conveyance, etc., is a sub- 
ordinate volition. Such subordinate volitions, in so 



232 THE WILL. 

far as they are regarded as carrying out the govern- 
ing voHtion, are cdiW^d executive volitions. The put- 
ting forth the hand to take the orange after the 
determination to appropriate it, is an executive 
voKtion. 

It is obvious that the same voHtion may be in one 
relation a predominant vohtion, and in another re- 
lation a subordinate volition. The getting ready 
one's baggage is subordinate and executive in re- 
lation to the predominant volition to take a journey ; 
it is itself predominant in relation to each specific 
volition, as going to the shop to purchase, purchas- 
ing, ordering or bearing home, parting, etc. 

The highest volition of which man is capable, and 
thus with him absolutely the predominant volition 
which is subordinate to no other, is that which con- 
trols the entire activity of the mind so far as subject 
to the will itself. Such a predominant volition de- 
termines the character of the man in its largest and 
most proper sense. From the very nature of motive 
or object to the will, such predominant purpose 
must have for its object as motive the chief good of 
the soul as actually selected by it. The good so 
taken to be the chief good may possibly be an in- 
ferior good, as compared with some other good. 
Such is the prerogative of the will as essentially 
free ; it can choose the lesser of two goods. In the 
grand alternative of choice in which God is propos- 
ed as one of the objects and rejected or declined, 
the lower good is in fact chosen as the chief good. 
And this choice of the inferior good is the sin ; as 
St Augustine in his confessions B, ii., § x. well 



GROWTH AND SUBORDINATIONS OF WILL. 233 

defines : — " Sin is committed while through an im- 
moderate inclination towards tliose goods of the 
lowest order, the better and higher are forsaken." 
Such sinful choice, although of a lower good, yet be- 
comes the predominant volition, and so governs and 
determines the following acts of the moral life, and 
characterizes the entire current of the soul's ac- 
tivity. 



234 THE WILL. 



CHAPTER V. 



CONSCIENCE. 



§214. The term conscience, originally 
ex^kSeT^ and etymologically synonymous with 
consciousness, denoted generally self- 
knowledge. But usage has greatly modified its 
signification, first by restricting it to matters of will 
or morality, and secondly, by enlarging it to include 
feeling as well as knowledge. It has, therefore, ac- 
quired a new import widely differing from its pri- 
mary sense. 

Other expressions are in use to denote the same 
mental state with more or less modifications, as 
moral sense, moral facnlty , sense of duty, or of right 
and wrong. 

§ 215. Conscience includes three chief 
Threefold eie- distinguishable elements: — (i) a dis- 

merits. '^ ^ ' 

cernment of right and wrong ; (2) a 
feeling of obligation ; and (3) an approval or disap- 
proval. 

The term is used sometimes with more prominent 
reference to one of these elements, sometimes with 
more prominent reference to another. It properly 



CONSCIENCE. 235 

implies, -however, all three, even when used with 
such prominent reference to one, inasmuch as the 
three necessarily exist and imply one another. 

§ 216. I. Conscience involves, as a 
Discerning of chief element, the discernment of rischt 

riglit and wrong. ^ 

and wrong. 

The rise of this complex phenomenon of mind is 
immediately and necessarily out of a conscious act 
of free will. We have already recognized the truth 
that the idea of free personality involves the idea of 
being a subject of rights and duties, that is, the idea 
of morality. In other words, the fact of free choice 
reveals to us at once the attributes of morality as 
truly as the orange reveals to us the attribute of form 
or of color. It is impossible for us fully to contem- 
plate such an act without recognizing this attribute 
of morality, by which is understood that the act must 
be considered as either right or wrong. 

This is the proper origin of the category of moral- 
ity which includes under it the specific and alter- 
native attributes of right and wrong. It is true, 
however, that the existence of this attribute as per- 
taining to free action may be proved from other as- 
sumed truths. From the assumption of the being and 
rule of God there follows by necessary deduction the 
subjection of his free creatures to him, which sub- 
jection implies then enforcement upon them of the 
observance of the right and the avoidance of 
the wrong. He cannot rule without subjects ; and 
as he is free and righteous, he cannot be true to 
liimself but as requiring right of his free subjects. 

The existence of this attribute as pertaining to 



236 THE WILL. 

free action may be deduced equally from the as- 
sumed existence of that true law, right reason or 
rule, invariable, eternal, universal, of which Cicero so 
profoundly and so justly discourses. Given such a 
law, and it follows that action under it must be char- 
acterized as right or wrong. 

It may be proved also from universal acknowl- 
edgment, from the general consciousness of men, 
and especially as expressed in the language of men. 

This attribute of free action — that it is moral, 
that is, either right or wrong — as necessarily pertain- 
ing to it, may be discerned by the human intelligence 
in every case, whether the act be one's own, and so 
properly within the range of personal consciousness, 
or another's and apprehended by observation. 

The fundamental element in conscience is this dis- 
cernment of the right or wrong in every free act 
which of itself and immediately reveals this attribute 
to every free contemplation. 

§ 217. 2. In a similar way arises the 
2. Feeling of obii- sentiment of obligation. 

gation. ^ 

A sense of moral freedom involves a sense of 
obligation to do the right and shun the wrong. So 
soon as a free choice is proposed, obligation is felt. 
As every free volition involves the necessity of an 
alternative determination, of choosing or refusing, 
or of selecting the one or the other of two objects, 
and as there is given in this freedom the attribute 
of being obligatory — of constraining to the right — so 
the sensibility is impressible by the attribute. It is 
true, the mind in its sovereign freedom, may turn 
away to a certain degree its sensibility from the at- 



CONSCIENCE. 237 

tribute : yet as the mind is in its highest nature a 
free and consequently a moral agent, this sense of 
obligation cannot be utterly prevented or anni- 
hilated. 

This sense of obligation, thus necessarily spring- 
ing from the consciousness of freedom and of choice, 
has for its objective counterpart what is fitly called 
^' the law of God written on the heart." It is ac- 
cordingly a legitimate inference from this conscious- 
ness, from this sense of obligation, that there is an 
outer source of this obligation ; that there is a law, 
given to man from without himself, and inscribed on 
his inmost nature ; and that this source is none other 
than God himself, who created man and endowed 
him with his freedom and who wrote the law in his 
inmost being and rules ever to sustain and enforce 
it. 

§ 218. 3. Still further, the full contem- 
dis^p^pm''.Sg"™P^^^^o" of ^^ act of free-will necessarily 
brings along with it a sense of approval 
or of disapproval. 

Every such act reveals in itself this attribute of 
awakening this feeling, as the orange reveals the at- 
tribute of juiciness and so impresses the outward 
sense. Relatively to the doei", and as seated in him, 
the attribute is that of merit or demerit, desert or 
guilt. In every free act the doer feels this desert 
or ill-desert according as he has chosen right or 
wrong, and exactly correspondent to this feeling in 
the heart of the personal doer is the judgment of 
approval or condemnation, of praise or of blame, 
by whoever scans the act with a moral eye. 



238 THE WILL. 

Such is the three-fold function of conscience :• 
it discerns in every free act the right or the wrong ; 
it feels the obligation to do the right and to shun 
the wrong ; it approves or condemns — awards 
praise or blame. 

Conscience, it should be added, has sometimes 
been regarded as the seat of that pleasure or pain 
which attends on all mental activity, and which in 
moral acts and states is deepest and most intense. 
We speak of the pleasure of a good conscience, and 
this pleasure may, not unwarrantably, be regarded 
as a function of conscience. In this case we 
should add as its fourth function that of giving the 
sense of that peculiar pleasure or of pain in the 
doer which naturally attends all right or wrong ac- 
tion. 

§ 219. The will extends its sovereignty 
Siibject to the ^^^^ ^YiQ conscience as over the entire 
mental activity. 

It directs and controls the culture of conscience, 
which like all other mental activities is capable of 
culture and growth. Quickness and accuracy of 
moral discernment, tender sense of obligation, and 
ready and just response of praise or blame, are mat- 
ters of culture. There is open to man a path of ad- 
vancement, of ascent, leading ever on and up to- 
wards that infinite perfection which belongs to the 
judge and ruler of all. 

The will, also, regulates and controls the con- 
science in respect to specific acts. Most moral acts 
of men are more or less complex, embracing some 
lawful elements, some unlawful. Morality in this 



CONSCIENCE. 239 

respect is like truth and beauty ; it appears among 
men like them in forms complicated of the perfect 
and the imperfect. As there is some deformity in 
almost every beautiful form on earth, some error in 
almost every truth held by men, so there is in 
every right act of man some taint of imperfection. 
And, on the contrary, there is no form wholly des- 
titute of every beauty, no error void of all truth, no 
sin destitute of some feature that is morally ap- 
provable. The will can thus fasten the attention 
more upon this or more upon that one of these com- 
plex elements that enter into every moral act of 
man, and so the recognition of the right or wrong, 
the corresponding sense of obligation to choose or 
refuse, and the consequent approval or disapproval, 
may vary. Hence the consciences of men, however 
true in themselves, differ in men of different moral 
habits or dispositions in their estimate of particular 
action. One's own conscience even varies with his 
moral mood. The same action is judged and felt 
by him differently at different times. His intelli- 
gence varies in quickness and keenness, and his 
sensibility in tenderness. But above and beyond 
this, his will as sovereign may turn the view or the 
sense now more on one element, now more on an- 
other. Even one's own conscience is not uniform 
in its action. 

Nevertheless conscience remains to man the 
highest arbiter and ruler in all his moral life. The 
authority of the divine ruler and judge speaks only 
through that. If the human conscience is not in- 
fallible, it is yet the supreme arbiter within the man 



240 THE WILL. 

himself in all morality. Man knows no higher in 
any department of his nature. The will itself in 
all its sovereignty must yield to the arbitrament of 
conscience ; for the creator has not with freedom 
granted exemption from responsibility. As the 
mind by the necessities of its nature, must be con- 
scious of its own action, so the will must to some 
degree at least, pass its own determinations in re- 
view before the censorship of the conscience. It 
may to some extent hinder, or defer, or even mar 
the action of conscience ; but it cannot wholly 
silence nor so corrupt as to destroy it. 

Hence arises the duty and the importance not 
only of training and cultivating the conscience, but 
also of securing it from being stifled or warped by a 
perverse will or by any particular occasion for its 
action. 



HOPE, FAITH, AND LOVE. 24I 



CHAPTER VL 

HOPE, FAITH, AND LOVE. 

§ 220. Hope, Faith, and Love are not 
Virtues. Only three comprehensive graces ; they 

are also comprehensive virtues. 
They sometimes appear with the sensibility, the 
feeling, predominant and so characterizing them, 
and then consequently are proper graces. They 
sometimes, however, appear with the moral element, 
the free will, predominant in them and so charac- 
terizing them as virtues. 

As graces they come but indirectly, while as 
virtues they come directly, under this law ; but un- 
der the law of duty in both cases they are properly 
subjects of immediate command. The practical 
reason, the conscience, recognizes them as right, as 
obligatory, as praiseworthy, and accordingly by its 
voice of authority as the organ of the divine will 
and word, commands them. As graces, they ap- 
pear characteristically as spontaneous ; as virtues 
they appear as voluntary and free. As thus en- 
joined duties, in these exercises the will puts itself 
forth and embodies itself in the feeling as its need- 
ful body and form of expression. It leads the feel- 

16 



242 THE WILL. 

ing to its object ; keeps the feeling on its object 
and animates it to its proper degree of life and ten- 
derness, and moreover protects it from being 
smothered or overpowered by any adverse feeling. 
§ 121. In hope, the free will leads the 
Hope explained, feeling of dcsirc fed with expectation to 
its proper object. This object, as legit- 
imate to the human soul, is good, and in order to 
hope as an enjoined virtue the good hoped for must 
be the highest good which is possible in the case. 

Hope, as a virtue, may be defined to be the 
choice of good as the object of desire and expecta- 
tion. 

Hope as an enjoined duty and virtue comprises 
several leading distinguishable elements and modi- 
fications which we proceed to enumerate. 

1. Hope as a duty implies something 
JhinHo bedo^t positive to be done. It is not a wholly 

passive exercise, a mere grace. The 
will is summoned to go out and find the proper ob- 
ject of hope and put the feeling in exercise. Such 
object in some form is ever attainable. As surely 
as the activity of the soul was ordained and 
fashioned and conditioned in infinite wisdom and 
goodness for good as its end, so surely is it that the 
duty of hope is a practicable one under the rule of 
God. The good in the nature of things connected 
with right action, is in the duty of hope to be sought 
and proposed as object to the sensibility. 

2. In the duty of hope, the desire and 
twiri*^"^ ^^ expectation are to be set on this good 

by the sovereign direction of the will. 



HOPE, FAITH, AND LOVE. 243 

3. The duty of hope is both generic and 
Z'^ic^""^ specific. The whole activity of the soul 
is to be subject to hope in such sense 
that each governing purpose or choice shall be in- 
spired by it ; the whole man is to move on in hope. 
And subordinate volitions are to stand in like re- 
lation to the duty of hope, receiving each its spe- 
cial inspiration from it. No duty can be rightly 
and perfectly discharged except as thus inspired by 
hope. 

4. Hope has its limitations both as to the kind of 
its objects and the de2:ree of its allowance. The 
one legitimate object of hope in its generic and su- 
preme exercise, is the good for which the soul was 
designed and fashioned. The will is enjoined in 
this duty to seek out and choose this good as highest 
object of desire and expectation. The duty pro- 
hibits any other good to be thus taken as the object 
of the soul's governing hope. Among the objects 
of specific hope there is wide room for selection. 
Some objects are absolutely prohibited ; other ob- 
jects are prohibited only because in the circum- 
stances less worthy than others which are presented 
or may be found. 

The highest legitimate good brings no limitation 
to hope in degree but such as is imposed by the 
capacity of the soul itself or by the due demands 
of other capacities in its culture and regulation. 
Allowable specific objects of hope are limited in 
their demands to their due measure of desire and 
expectation. These limitations vary indefinitely 
with condition and circumstance. 



244 '^'HE WILL. 

5. Finally the free will is enjoined in 
To be sustamedthe duty of hope not only to find its 

proper object and regulate it to its 
proper degree, but also to guard and protect it from 
being overborne, and also to sustain and nourish it, 
that as participating in an active living nature it 
may ever grow and strengthen. 

§ 222. In faith, the free will leads the 
Faith defined, natural feeling of dependence to its 

proper object. 
Faith, as a duty, may accordingly be defined to 
be the choice of the proper object of dependence. 
It involves the actual exercise of this feeling in re- 
liance and trust. 

The objects of faith are all those objects 
Its object. Qn which man may in any way depend. 

Its highest form is in relation to God, 
as the creator and disposer of man. The ofiice of 
faith in this its highest form, is to recognize God as 
the one comprehensive, legitimate, absolute ground 
of dependence and trust. In this highest form^ 
faith is well characterized as " the subtle chain that 
binds us to the infinite." In lower and subordinate 
forms, faith finds its legitimate specific objects in 
all the beings within its reach which fill the uni- 
verse of God and in all the events of his providen- 
tial rule. Especially does it find legitimate objects 
in the fellow-beings of the same rational nature. 
Manifold modes and degrees of dependence deter- 
mine manifold forms and measures of faith. Even 
the manifold capacities and functions of the soul 
itself call for manifold kinds and measures of faith 



HOPE, FAITH, AND LOVE. 245 

as they are interlocked with one another in mani- 
fold forms and degrees of reciprocal interdepend- 
ence. 

Faith, as a duty, like hope involves divers ele- 
ments and modifications. It implies 
Its elements, something positlvc to be done ; it in- 
volves the fixing of the feeling of de- 
pendence necessarily belonging to a finite nature on 
its proper object or ground, whether this object or 
ground is the highest and most comprehensive as 
God himself, or subordinate as his creatures and ordi- 
nances ; it has its limitations both as to object and 
degree ; and requires protection and nourishment. 

§ 223. In love the free will leads out 
Love defined. i\^q natural feeling of sympathy to its 
proper object. 
Love, as a duty, may accordingly be defined to 
be the choice of the proper object for sympathy. It 
involves the actual exercise of this sympathy to- 
wards its object. 

The sphere of love as a duty to man, is commen- 
surate with the range of human sym- 
Its sphere. pathy. With whatever being the human 
soul can be in sympathy and in what- 
ever way such sympathy can be felt and manifested, 
towards that being and in that way the duty of love 
extends. 

Its highest forms are in relation to those objects 
or beings with which the soul is in closest, broadest, 
deepest relations of sympathy. No being is so near 
to the soul as its creator and disposer. No being 
can engage or reciprocate such deep sympathies. 



246 THE WILL. 

Love consequently is highest and most imperative 
towards him. It is supreme and comprehensive of 
all exercises of love towards inferior beings. 

As there can be nothing more worthy to engage 
our sympathy, nothing in a particular being that is 
more worthy to enlist our highest and warmest sym- 
pathy, than the comprehensive good for which he 
exists, so love in its highest and most commanding 
form involves sympathy with this end for which the 
object has his being. If we reverently characterize 
the end of God's being as his infinite blessedness or 
the perfect glory of his character, then our love to 
him must necessarily express sympathy with this 
end as its highest possible form. Love to God thus 
in its highest form is will to please him or will to 
glorify him. As the end of man's being is his 
blessedness or true excellence of character, love to 
man in its highest, most generic form, is will to pro- 
mote this well-being in him. 

The specific and subordinate forms of love 
respect the manifold specific attributes and relations 
and conditions of other beings so far as they can enlist 
our sympathy. 

Love, as a duty, like hope and faith, involves 
divers elements and modifications. It 
Divers elements, implies a positive act of will, something 
to be done ; it involves the fixing of the 
natural sympathy of the soul on its appropriate 
object in kind and allowing to its natural expression 
its proper degree; it requires protection and nour- 
ishment as being subject to culture and growth. 



INDEX 



FAGE. 

Action^ attributes of, 183 

A ctivity, especial attribute, of mind, 
5-8 ; peculiar to mind, 6 ; three 
forms of mental activity, 7 

/Esthetic Setise, 75 

Affectio7is, 85-87 ; defined, 85 ; 

classed, 86 ; modifications, 86 

Apparitions^ in part accounted for, 65 
Appetites, 90 

Artistic Imagination^ 161 

Association of ideas, 147; laws, 
147; general principle, 150 ; spe- 
cial laws, 151 
Atte7ttio7i, defined, 211 
Attributes, intrinsic or extrinsic, 182 
Aversions, 89. 
Beantifod, cinotion of the, 78 ; its 

effect, 79 ; category of, 197 

Beiftz, ambiguities of term, 200 

Catalepsy, 123 

Category, defined, 181 ; systems of 

categories of thought, 1 84- 198 

Cause, origin of idea, 204 

Comic, 80 

Choice, 214-223 ; an act, 215 ; ap- 
propriative, 215 ; free, 216 ; per- 
sonal, 217 ; sovereign, 217; ori- 
ginative, 220; moral, 221 ; re- 
sponsible, 222 
Co7nprehe7tsive k7iozvledge, 20S 
Ci?/?^^/^', how formed, 180 
Co7iscie7ice, explained, 234 ; syn- 
onyms, 234 ; threefold ele- 
ment, 234 ; subject to the will, 238 
Co7iditio7i, attributes of, 183 
Co7tscious sttbject, 35 
Co7tti7mous7iess of I7ti7id, 22-29 
Copjda, element of thought, 178 
Cjcriosity, defined, 210 
De77to7istratio7i, _ 209 
Desires, 88-93 ; defined, 88 ; classi- 
fied, _ 88 
Deter 77ii7iatio7i, a logical process, 181 
Discursive i7ztellige7ice, 179 
Dreaming, 171 
Emotions, 74-84 ; defined, 74 ; their 
classes as awakened by the true, 
the beautiful, and the good, 75; 
modifications, 76 
E7indation, 92 
E7itity, 200 
Exalted sensibility, 114 



PAGB. 

E xiste7tces, 199-207 ; origin of 

notion, 199 ; classes, 203 

Experie71.ce, source of knowledge, i 

Extri7isic Attrilmtes, 1S2-3 

Faith as a virtue, 24.1 ; defined, 

244 ; its object, 244 ; elements, 245 
Feeli7igs, classified, 54 

For77i, 53 

Ge7ieralizatio7i, 181 

Good, category of, 197 

Habit, its nature, 25 ; condition of 

growth, 28 

Hearing, source of, 76 

Hope as a virtjie, 241 ; defined, 242; 
implies something to be done, 
242 ; directed by the will, 242 ; 
genuine and specific, 243 ; to be 
sustained by the will, 244 

Hope a7id Fear, 93 

Idea, nature of, 35-45 ; sole object 
for the mind, 36 ; of mind and for 
mind, 37 ; defined, 39; threefold, 
39 ; as true, 41 ; as beautiful, 42 ; 
as good, 42 ; respective objects 
for threefold functions of the 
mind. 45 

Ide7dity, personal, 24 

Ideals, 103 ; primitive and second- 
ary, 104 
Ideality, category of, 187 
l77tagi7iatio7i, faculty of form, 53 ; 
defined, 100 . artistic, philoso- 
phical, and practical, 159-166 
hdellectual se7ise, 75 
Ditellectual apprehensio7i a7td rep- 

rese7datio7i, 208 

I7itellige7ice, function of mind, 7 ; 

defined, 164 ; modifications, 164 

Intri7tsic attribides, 182 ; qualities 
and actions, 183 ; essential or ac- 
cidental, 183 
l7duitio7i, 167 ; defined, 172 ; S3mo- 
nym, 172; sphere, 173; a presen- 
tative knowledge, 173; an imme- 
diate knowledge, 173 
K7iowledge, its source, i; through 

attributes, 3 

Love, as a virtue, 241; defined, 244; 

sphere, 245 ; elements, 246 

Liidicrous, emotion of the. 77 

Me77iory, 26 ; attaches to feelings, 
thoughts, and purposes, 26-28 ; 
247 



248 



INDEX. 



PAGE. 

defined, 132; its perpetuity, 134; 
proved from presumption, 134 ; 
analogy : 134 ; ordinary expe- 
rience, 135 ; facts of extraordinary 
experience, 137 ; conditions of a 
good memory, 141 ; rules, 144 

Mental reproduction, 146-158 

Mind, synonym of soul, etc., i ; 
general attributes, 5 ; essentially 
active, 5 ; defined, 6 ; single and 
simple, 9-12 ; distinct from its ob- 
ject, 10: finite and dependent, 13- 
16 ; limited in range, 13 ; in in- 
tensity, 13 ; in object, 14 ; de- 
pendent on objects, 14; on chan- 
nels, 15 ; limited in control of ob- 
ject. 16 ; its passivity, 17-21 ; 
from other objects and from its 
own states, 17 ; active and pas- 
sive — a faculty and a capacity — 
at same time, 19 ; activity at- 
tended with pleasure, 19 ; con- 
tinuous, 22-29 ' self-conscious, 
30-34 ; its relationship, 35-45 ; 
sole object for idea, 36 ; symbols, 
46-50 ; reality proved, 203 

Modiility, category of, 192 

Moral sense, 75 ; how awakened, 81 
Motion, origin of idea, 203 

Motive, 224-228 ; defined, 224 ; a 
good, 225 ; to the whole mind, 
226 ; in the mind, 227 ; classes, 227 
NerTes, sensitive and motor, 64 

Observatioji, 211 

Organic sense, 68 

Passio7is, 99 

Passivity of mitid, I'j-o.i. 

Perception, 176 ; defined, 168 ; the 
relations to sensation, 168; sphere, 
171; a presentative knowledge, 171 
Phanto7ns,^ m 

Philosopliical imagination. 161 

Pleasure afid pain, 56-61; degrees, 
57-58; enter into all mental states, 
58 ; modifications, 59 ; bodily, 66 
Practical sentiments, 97; imagina- 
tion, 162 
Predicate, element of thought, 178 
Presentative k/ioivledge, , 165 
Properties, intrinsic attributes, 183; 
category of properties and rela- 
tions, 193 
Psychology, defined, i ; its prov- 
ince, 2 ; method of study, 3-4 
Qualities, 183 
Quatitity, category of, 190 
Rational desires, of freedom, pow- 
er, knowledge, 91, 92 
Reasoning, t8i; mediate and imme- 
diate, 182 
Recollection, 156 ; rules, 159 
Redintegration, Hamilton's law of 148 
RejUecttofi, 211 



PAGE. 

Relation, attributes of, 183 

Represejitative knowledge, 165 

Reproduction, 146-158 ; defined, 
146 ; spontaneous in revery or 
voluntary in recollection, 146 

Resentme7its, 87 

Revery, _ 147 

Self, synonym of mind, eb^,, i 

Self conscious7iess, 30-34 ; its im- 
mediate object, 31 ; knowing and 
feeling, 31 ; degrees, 31 

Self love, 89 

Se7isatio7is, 62-73 '< defined, 62 ; 

medium, 63 ; -classes, 66 

Se?ise ideals, 107-127; defined, 107; 

modifications, 180 

Se7isibitity, function of mind, 7 ; 
notion and modifications, 51-55 ; 
capacity of form, 54 

Se7iti77iefits, 94-97; defined, 94; 

classes, 95 

Sight, sense of, 72 

Si7igle7iess a7idsij7iplicity ofrtzind 

9-12 
Sleep, 115 

Si7ielk, sense of, 71 

Social desires, 93 

S077l7ia77lbtclis77t, I24 

Soul, synonym of mind, etc., i 

Space, origin of idea, 205 

Special se7ises, •6g 

Spirit, synonym of mind, etc., i 

Spiritual ideas, 128-131 ; defined, 
128 ; source, 128 ; bodied in 
ideas, 130 

(Sz^i^/Vcz?, element of thought, 178 

Subli77ie, emotion, of the, 78 

Substance a7id cause, category of, 

195; origin of idea of an existence, 204 
Susf>e7ided se7isibility, 116 

Sy77tbols of 77ti7id, 46-50 

Taste, sense of, 70 

Thought, defined, 175; synonyms, 
175 ; follows perception and in- 
tuition, 177 ; its elements, 178 ; 
three genuine forms ;— -the judg- 
ment, the concept, and the rea- 
soning, sSo 
Time, origin of idea, 205 
'Touch, sense of, 67 
'True, beautiful, and s^ood, catego- 
ries of, 197 
U7iiverse, origin of idea of, 204 
Vital se7ise, 68 
Volitio7i, see under choice, predom- 
inant and subordinate, 231 
Will, function of mind, 7-8; its na- 
ture and modifications, 212; syn- 
onyms, 212; in choice, 214; 
growth and subordinations, 229- 
233; dependent, 230; self-ruling, 231 
Wit, 77 



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